


Season of the Witch

by Meow_Witch



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: AU af, Accidental Soul Bonding, Alcohol, Alternate History, Alternate Timelines, Blood, Curses, Daddy Kink, Dadster, F/M, I keep forgetting to update the tags sorry, LMAO, Late 70s early 80s, Medical stuff, Mild Fluff, Prophetic Visions, Reader Is Not Frisk, Road Head, Science, Smut, Twins, attempted latin, attempted suicide, fucking blood everywhere, half breed, nerd stuff, or something, question mark
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-07
Updated: 2018-03-03
Packaged: 2018-08-29 13:50:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 24
Words: 57,786
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8492209
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Meow_Witch/pseuds/Meow_Witch
Summary: All your life you've felt out of place, as if something was missing.It isn't until an alleged chance meeting do you find you that yes, something big was missing from your identity. 
Smut chapters tagged with (*)





	1. MEETING

_Monday, August 26 th 1979_

  
“(Y/N) what time is it?”  
  
You kept on pouring yourself a coffee, glancing up to the oven to check the time.  
  
“It's 8:14am Ma” you reply. Black coffee and plain cheerios are the breakfast of winners your father would often tell you. Loading up both with sugar you were fine settling for third.  
  
Your mother's eyes flutter up at you from the kitchen table. Her small frame drowns in her purple polyester nightgown, hair surrounding her head in tightly wound curlers. Despite the layers of cold cream still sitting on her face, the deep set wrinkles around her eyes poke though  
  
“And why are you up so early?” She asks, ashing her cigarette into the worn yellow tray. The smoke hangs so thick in the air you could bat it away with your hand. Your mother tried to give up cigarettes years ago, but all she had now were patches, gum, and self-help books stashed away in the back of the pantry, waiting for her annual attempt. Sitting next to an open window was the next best thing to quitting in her mind.  
  
You set your coffee and cereal down on the table, and slide into the yellow chair opposite your mother. “I'm meeting Lisa near the university to pick up her bridesmaids dress. Apparently it needs a lot of work” you spoon the cereal into your mouth, eyes glued to the week-old news paper covering the table.  
  
“Is she paying you?” without looking, you could feel your mother's gaze on you.  
  
“50 bucks, maybe more depending” you continue to shovel cereal into your mouth. You bite into a chunk of pure sugar.  
  
“You should be charging her triple you know. Henson on the other side of town charges almost 120 to even hem a bridesmaid dress” a squeak from the worn vinyl chair pierces the air as your mother leans back. A puff of smokes escapes her lips.  
  
“Well that's why Henson is going out of business, ma” you reply, looking up to catch your mother rolling her eyes at you. You and your mother were almost carbon copies of each other; it was honestly like looking into a mirror, a sad, wrinkled, bleach blonde mirror. After your father died your mom started to bleach her hair in an attempt to feel different, to feel something. She thinks she looks like Farrah Fawcett, but the fried ends, silver roots, and lipstick that stuck to her front teeth made you think otherwise. You weren't even sure who she was wearing the lipstick for, seeing as how she literally never left the house.  
  
Your mother leans back in, the vinyl giving another sharp squeak. She taps her long, boney finger against her cigarette, a sharp contrast to the lace around the end of her sleeve. “well not to be rude but she's... you know” she whispers.  
  
“Canadian?”  
  
Your mother picks up her coffee and take a quick swig. From the look on her face, it had gone cold. Placing the cup back down a little harder than necessary she snaps: “I don't like wagonburners (Y/N) you know that”  
  
You sigh, spooning the last of your cereal into your mouth. Your mother had some, well, different ideas. Ideas and thoughts that really showed you how, despite looking like a pair of twins, you and your mother were almost polar opposites. You were glad she didn't go out much anymore. “Mom, it's 1979”  
  
“I know what year it is” she grumbles, quickly replacing her words with her cigarette. You both inhale deeply, turning your attentions to the open window. You sigh while smoke plumes out of your mother's mouth.  
  
“Do you need anything while I'm out?” you ask, turning your gaze back to her.  
  
“Buttons. Brown, black and white. And you should get more touch fastener, I think you're running out.”  
  
\--  
  
The sun sat high in the sky by the time you left your apartment. The tart smell of the freshly cut grass, mixed with the acidic smell of old garbage, mixed with the smog of passing vehicles no longer smelled like anything unpleasant to you. Rather it smelled like home now. Moving from the large house you grew up in to a tiny corner apartment had been a rather rough adjustment initially but busying yourself with a budding business made it easier for you. Your mother was still adjusting 8 years later.  
  
“(Y/N)!” you whip around, and look up to the third floor, to see green lizard woman sticking her head out of a window, waving her hand at you. Your neighbour.  
  
“Do you still have time to hem my boy's pants later this afternoon?” She shouts. Her tongue slips out of her mouth to wipe her left eye.  
  
“Of course, I can have them done before dinner. Did you want me to sew buttons in the back too?” you shout back, shielding your eyes from the sun.  
  
Of all the beings to racist to, your mother was not racist towards monsters. Your father employed mainly monsters at his hardware store, which was probably why she was so fond of them. In particular, your mother was very fond of your lizard-like neighbour  
  
A loud chirp left your neighbour and she nodded “Please. Felix is...” she pauses, smiling proudly. “He's realized it will grow back if he lets someone pull it off. You may need to alter all of his pants”  
  
“Sure thing Mrs. Oppel”  
  
Mrs. Oppel waves, before quickly ducking back into her apartment and slamming the window shut. You knew she kept the apartment warm, the morning air must have been cooling it down too much for her liking.  
  
Becoming a tailor wasn't exactly your calling in life, but you had a knack for it and it paid the bills. Instead of going off to collage with the rest of your friends you stayed back to take care of your newly widowed mother. To be honest, you were kind of relieved to have an excuse to not go to college. You just weren't ready. 8 years later you had a small, steady business, catering mainly to monsters, just like your father had.  
  
As you begin your walk to the bus stop a few blocks ahead you feel a familiar burning in your heels. You grimace. The shoes you decided to wear, a pair white platform boots, were notorious for giving you foot cramps and blisters. You glance back, too far from home to go back now. If that wasn't the worst, you were beginning to regret mini skirt you had put on. While you were getting dressed you thought “oh it's too hot for nylons, I'll just pair it with a long sleeved bow-button up to even it out” but now you felt positively nude and prudishly covered at the same time. A very strange feeling. Finding your determination to not let Lisa down, you trudge on.  
  
\--

 

Lisa said she would meet you at the coffee shop near the university at 9:30 It was 9:42, according to the clock inside the store. Humans and monsters funnel in and out of the as you wait. Students, businessmen, a few construction workers, mostly people on their way to work. Working for yourself meant you made your own schedule and really only answered to your clients. You rarely had anything more difficult than creating a hole for a tail in a pair of pants and your mother took care of sewing the button holes. All things considered you were quite free to do as you wished with a good portion of your day. Watching a particularly distressed businessman almost knock down another man as he storms out of the coffee shop, paper cup in hand, you feel lucky.  
  
A sharp breeze nips around your knees. Despite the sun warming your scalp, the breeze reminded you that the summer was quickly coming to a close. You were still expecting a few more rush orders for hemmed pants and zipper replacements from both monster and humans for back to school. Turning your head to look down the other end of the sidewalk you spot him.  
  
You've never seen a monster like this. At a quick glance maybe he could have been human. Upon further inspection you could not have been more wrong. His long legs hold up a slender frame, wide shoulders support a perfectly pale neck and an almost perfect face, save for the cracks; one down the top of his right eye, one jutting down from his left eye to connect to his mouth. He seems to be dressed very fashionably had it been the 60's. Although his pants are sloppily hemmed as fuck. How embarrassing you think as the monster strides closer towards you.  
  
The longer you stare at him, particularly his crooked mouth, you begin to feel something cold crawl up your spine. Visions of your father flash in your mind; his smile, the way he smelled when he came home from work, the way your little hands fit in his, the way he and your mother danced, the way his hands wrapped around her neck- what. Your slam your eyes shut, and feel the cold brush past you. For a moment you're overcome with feelings of guilt, pain, fear. Your soul thumps against your chest; you feel lost. You can only hear the howl of the wind as you try to find yourself among the thoughts of your father.  
  
“(Y/N)” a voice yells. Your eyes flutter open. The monster is gone. Your heart slows to its natural rhythm and the vice-like grip on your soul loosens. You're you again, and you're looking at a familiar brown face. It's Lisa.  
  
“Sorry I'm late I overslept” she grins, pulling you into a hug “you're not mad are you?”. Wedged between Lisa's body and her large hands you really had no choice but to be... not mad. The smell of lavender fills your nose. Of course she smells like lavender.  
  
You exhale and you quickly force your mouth into a smile “no no, of course not. I'm just glad we could meet up”. You do a once over on Lisa. The summer tanned her already brown skin deeper, almost bronze. She towered over you, even in your platform boots. Lisa kept her dark hair long and pin straight. Her bell-bottom jeans hug and outline the curve of her hips while her top is covered by the nude swimsuit she insisted you sew for her and an oversized jean jacket. A large, rather overfilled bag sits at her hip.  
  
“Do you wanna grab a coffee real quick? I actually have to meet with the professor who's overseeing my program at 10, then I'm meeting my sister at the beach for 11” she shifts her belongings, she's obviously very unorganized. If nothing else, your organization was something you had over Lisa.  
  
“Lisa it's like quarter to 10 do yo-” you begin to ask, but Lisa interrupts, “actually I see him in there right now, maybe we can just do the meeting here”

Silently you follow Lisa into the coffee shop. It would make sense to see her professor so close to the campus. Lisa would prattle on to you about the professor overseeing her program. He's intelligent, charming, far overqualified to be overseeing a PHD program she would say. Doctor W.D. Gaster so fantastic, so wonderful, so this and that. To your dismay she immediately approaches the tall monster dressed in the bad pants. 

“Dr. Gaster!” She exclaims, tapping him on the shoulder as you stood back a few feet away. As much as Lisa towered over you, he made even her seem short.  
  
“Oh, hello Ms. Blackwater” the monster replies, turning his head to look down at her, “I did not expect to see you here”  
  
“Yeah, I was just meeting my friend before our meeting, she's tailoring my dress for Laurel's wedding” Lisa explains, gesturing to the bag under her arm. She gestures with her head back at you “This is (Y/N)(Y/LN), I'm sure I've mentioned her once or twice”  
  
You drew in a sharp breath, meeting eyes with the monster you now knew was Doctor Gaster. His wide mouth curved into a wider smile. “Pleasure Ms(Y/LN)” he smiles.  
  
You say nothing, mouth slightly agape. You slowly nod. This was real, it was happening. Your soul felt as if it was trying to pull you out the door.  
  
“Large coffee, two cream, no sugar” the young lady behind the counter places the paper cup on the counter, gesturing to Dr. Gaster, “have a great day, professor!”  
  
You watch in awe as Dr. Gaster picks the cup up off the counter. His hands are huge, they seem... rough? Ethereal? You realize staring at his hands is probably rude, and you quickly glance away. You keep getting flashes of your father here and there; his plaid flannel shirt tucked into his jeans, the old pick up truck he took to work everyday, the bruises on your mother's neck. AGAIN what the hell. While remembering things that may or may not have happened, you've completely missed the conversation between Lisa and Dr. Gaster, until Lisa gestures towards a table and turns to you  
  
“You guys take a seat, I'll cover you since I was late, what do you want?”  
  
Lisa's words pull you back to reality.  
  
“Uh, uhm” You shrug your shoulders, unable to find the words. Lisa fishes her wallet out of the bag then thrusts the cumbersome tote it into your arms “Great! Give me a minute”  
  
You and Dr. Gaster meet eyes as Lisa saunters off. The bag in your arms suddenly finding it had a lot of weight  
  
“I, uh.” you swallow. Dr. Gaster brushes past you to the table Lisa had pointed to. You follow, almost not of your own volition, awkwardly cradling Lisa's bag as if it's small child.  
  
“Despite her earlier comment Ms. Blackwater has told me an awful lot about you” Dr. Gaster's words hang in the air as he places his leather briefcase on the table before slipping out of a rather outdated jacket. You almost don't remember how to speak. You can't tell if you're terrified or intrigued. You've met hundreds of monsters, you speak to monsters everyday, you've worked for them, you've dated them, you lost your virginity to one; why was it this particular one was making you feel so nervous?  
  
“S-she what?” You slide into your seat, resting Lisa's bag into an empty chair. You awkwardly placed your hands flat on the table and shift uncomfortably. You are a 26 year old seamstress who lives with her agoraphobic mother; what in the hell could she have said about you that would even remotely interest anyone.  
  
Dr. Gaster nods, bringing his coffee to his... lips? How was he going to drink this exactly, you wonder. It did not look like his face was particularly fleshy looking, he certainly didn't have lips, did he? You brought your thumb and forefinger to your chin. The fear and unrest you felt initially seems to be melting away to a dull, mild suspicion.  
  
“She told me you are a rather gifted seamstress” Dr. Gaster replies, setting the cup against his open mouth, tipping it. Quickly realizing you were studying this monster in order to figure out how exactly he was going to drink that liquid, you flatten your hand against your shoulder and glance away from Dr. Gaster. Very smooth.  
  
“I mostly just hem pants it's really nothing too glamourous” you reply, wishing you could leave. You find a picture of a fern framed against the wall in front of you very interesting. That cold feeling in your spine has crept back, You were sure it was him, though you couldn't quite pinpoint what about him it was. Not to mention something about him was making you think of your father.  
  
It's quiet. You turn your head back up to see the doctor looking directly at you, maybe into your soul. His breathing is almost non-existant. The smell of his coffee almost completely masked by something more... caustic. It's like blood but the smell burns your nostrils. The beating of your heart loudly pounds in your ears.  
  
“She told me your father died” he whispered, mouth curving into a slight smile.  
  
“Yeah he... had a massive stroke” you whisper back, matching his tone. You try to avoid looking into his eyes? Skull? Head holes? But it is very difficult. It seems his eyes are deeply set inside his skull, if you can call pinpricks of light eyes.  
  
“She told me you had to withdraw your application to college”  
  
“I uh, yeah? Why would she ev-”  
  
“That's a shame, there's nothing more exciting than the thrill of discovery except perhaps”  
  
Your earlier guess at his hands being rough was correct. One of Dr. Gaster's hands found it's way to resting on top of your hand. You are very aware of the blood pulsing in your hand. His skin -is it even skin?- feels cold against yours.  
  
“The thrill of conquest” His voice drops even deeper.  
  
Brows furrowing, you slowly withdraw your hands until both are resting firmly in your lap, eyes wide. Was he hitting on you? What in the actual fuck. The hand he had touched feels cold under your other hand.  
  
“He's kidding” Lisa laughs, finally approaching the table. She places a tiny cup in front of you, “Dr. Gaster you're such a dog”. She and Dr. Gaster must have a pretty good relationship in order for her to speak so freely. It was pretty weird she still addresses him so formally.  
  
A soft chuckle escapes the monster, the air around him completely changing. “I'm sorry Ms(Y/LN) you only get one chance to pull that joke it was simply too easy”. You lower your shoulders. He was awfully bold to make a joke based around your dead father and academic failures within seconds of meeting you.  
  
Lisa sits down next to you, holding a very tiny cup. You inspect your own. “Lisa what is this?” you question. The liquid inside smells very strong, like coffee but significantly stronger.  
  
“It's expresso” she replies, taking a short sip.  
  
“Espresso” Dr. Gaster corrects her.  
  
“Es...” Lisa begins to sound out the word, correctly.  
  
“mmhm”  
  
“...press...”  
  
“keep going”  
  
Lisa throws her head back “OOH~!” she shouts, not seeming to care she had also elicited a few stares.  
  
You're silent as you watch Lisa and Gaster share a laugh. Their relationship may be something more than just student-teacher you ponder.  
  
\--  
  
You remain silent, staring at your tiny espresso. The liquid sloshes back and forth now and again as Lisa and Dr. Gaster go over the seemingly endless supply of note books Lisa carried in her bag, apparently for some “light reading” at the beach.  
  
You lean back into your seat, bringing the tiny cup to your lips. The sludge inside tastes like actual death. You choke it down, listening to Lisa and Dr. Gaster discuss... something. They jump so quickly from topic to topic you were unable to keep up. You glance at your hands. It's not like you would have been able to understand what they were discussing, you were really more of a history lover. You revell in the past and everything they spoke of seemed concerned with the future and the fastest way to get there.  
  
But every now and then you swore you caught the doctor glancing at you, as if he was trying to remember you from a long forgotten meeting.  
  
You slowly raise up from your chair, crushing the little paper cup after finishing the disgusting muck inside. You were done sitting idle and feeling like an idiot. The espresso sat uncomfortably in your stomach and you had pants to hem, any time was as good as now to finish your errands and return home.  
  
“Hey I've actually got a few more errands to run, I think I'm going to get going” you say. The two academics fall silent. Lisa's lips curl into a pout. A pretty, perfect, pout.  
  
“Okay (Y/N), I'm sorry we're being very boring right now, I'll make it up to you on... Saturday? Drinks?” Lisa asks, making finger guns at you.  
  
“Oh, sure. If you want you can try on your dress and see if needs any further changes than the ones we discussed” you reply, keeping your eyes glued to Lisa who begun pulling a rather large white garment bag out of her tote. You were painfully aware that the doctor was studying you. You felt his eyes narrow, seemingly studying your chest.  
  
Lisa rolls her eyes, and unzips the garment bag to reveal an almost neon orange monstrosity “if you can make this piece of shit look even half good I'll give you my first born”  
  
“Ah...oh” you accept the garment bag from Lisa, who pulls you into a hug. Despite drinking the same sludge you had she still smells like lavender.  
  
Dr. Gaster stands and extends a hand "it was very lovely to meet you, Ms. (Y/LN).  
  
You hesitate for a moment, before extending your hand to meet his. As soon as your flesh met his hand, another chill ran down your spine. You were terrified, uneasy, you wanted to puke. His touch fills you with memories of your father yet again. Your mind races from your father looking back at you from the front of his truck, to the way he picked you up the first time you fell while learning to ride your bike, to your mothers screams that echoed through the house every time he struck her. One again, memories of abuse, where were these coming from?  
  
"Ah, uh, you as w-well, Dr. Gaster" you retract your hand and show off a weak smile.  
  
With the hideous dress tucked neatly into the garment bag, you turn to make your exit, more anxious than ever to get back home to your mother.  
  
You still feel the unrelenting gaze of the doctor as you push open the door and escape into the world.

 


	2. GOSSIP

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You and Lisa get tanked at her apartment while you attempt to pin her dress. She talks about Gaster, then you drunkenly read a book.  
> Typical Saturday.

_Saturday, September 1 st 1979_

 

You spent all week wondering about the monster you had met. He was unlike anything you had ever seen, so much so that you considered going to the library to do some reading to see if his type of monster was mentioned anywhere, but the library was for nerds. Not to mention, as you has expected, you were overrun with rush orders for school. Plus your mother was unable to say no to the dinosaur woman who showed up at your door, garbage bag full of clothes in hand and tears in her eyes explaining her son suddenly grew a set of arms overnight and needed the sleeves reopened on all of his shirts... the day before school started.  
  
Working quickly with little sleep you had time to play the meeting over in your head as the TV hums mindlessly in the background. His smile, his hands, his briefcase, the way his dress shoes clicked against the floor of the coffee shop, the smell that you couldn't figure out if it was coming from him or the coffee. The way he spoke, the way he stared, the way his touch filled you with a flurry of emotions. Just what was he? Not to even mention the fact that when you were around him he made you think of your father in a way you never dreamed you could. Your sweet, kind, father. The man who gave jobs to monsters when very few places would. The man who walked you to school almost ever day. The man who made sacrifice after sacrifice to keep a roof over you and your mother. It was preposterous. Your father never laid a hand on your mother, she even said so herself. She always told you to marry someone like your father and don't settle for less. You would. And If being around this monster made you think of your father like an abuser than you certainly didn't want to be anywhere near him.  
  
Hell, you hadn't even had time to decide if you thought Dr. Gaster was hot or not, as Lisa often insists he is.  
  
“Okay but he really is a great guy!” Lisa exclaims, arms high in the air, as if reaching for something hidden in the ceiling, a half empty glass of wine clutched in her right hand. Lisa had managed to smash all but 1 of the wine glasses you bought her for last Christmas so while she held onto one, your own wine sits in a coffee cup on the table having not yet been sipped.  
  
“Okay but can you stop moving for like 3 seconds? I've got pins in the dress” You insist, pulling the fabric of the dress taunt once more. Instead of going out, you both decided it would be more financially responsible to just drink at Lisa's apartment. You decided on Lisa's apartment mainly based on the... well, the fact that your mother never left your apartment.  
  
Lisa's apartment is tiny and filled to the brim with books on topics you couldn't even begin to comprehend. Books on the couch, books on the windowsill, books in the oven, books in the cabinets; there were literally books everywhere. In fact Lisa was standing on a couple of encyclopedias in order to better allow you to pin her dress. It took most of the week working on and off to remove as much of the seemingly random beads, glitter, and other paraphernalia until you were left with a very plain albeit very orange bell sleeved dress. Lisa's older sister, the bride Laurel, accidentally ordered the wrong dress for Lisa. Upon opening the orange disaster of a dress Lisa, the ever determined, swore to her sister she would make it work lest they be stuck waiting another 6 months  
  
“He thought you were very nice” Lisa sighs, letting her arms fall down to her sides.  
  
“He made a joke that referenced my dead father, my academic failures and then hit on me” you reply while holding pins in your mouth. A faint burning was brewing in your knees from kneeling into the old shag carpet. “I'm not really in a huge rush to see him again”. You weave the small pins through the hem of the dress little by little.  
  
“Uhh, I should tell you now then” Lisa brings the glass to her lips and takes a quick swig, “I gave him your number”  
  
You freeze and look up “I... why fuck would you do that?” you ask, shifting so you were leaning on your hip to look at Lisa's face. Her eyes shot down to yours.  
  
“Because he dresses like a fucking slob, (Y/N). Did you not check out the hem of his pants? Like I want to shake him and be like 'where the fuck is the fucking flood Dr. G?'” Lisa gestures with her hands as she speaks, spilling a bit of her wine onto the carpet "You have to help him"  
  
“The point is I don't want to see that monster again. He makes m-... was a dick!” you quickly exclaim. You wouldn't dare tell Lisa you were sure it was him that was making you see visions of your father, lest she chalk it up to you having daddy issues. Hell if Lisa thought you had daddy issues you wouldn't hear the end of it.  
  
Lisa takes another swig of her drink, glancing into the quickly emptying glass. “I don't think he's into women. Or well, human women anyway”  
  
You take the pins from your mouth and recline until you're laying flat on the floor in an attempt to stretch your back. You let out a loud groan. Working at this hem for a good chunk of the evening was taking it's toll on your back. “How do you figure?” you ask lazily, staring directly up at the ceiling. You spy a stain of questionable origin staring back at you.  
  
“Well..like. Okay so we used to have the meetings at my apartment because it's quiet and close to campus right?” Lisa explains, stepping down from the encyclopedias. You sit back up “whoa whoa there's still a few inches I need to pin”  
  
“Well I've got an embarrassing story to tell you and I'm out of wine hang on”  
  
You watch as Lisa disappears into the kitchen, and hear the sound refrigerator popping open.  
  
“Okay so like, the one evening he came over to discuss my thesis which at the time I was thinking of perusing theoretical power sources in th-”  
  
“LISA DON'T EVEN START” you yell. Once you let Lisa talk to you about her thesis. It has turned into a 2 hour lecture complete with diagrams.  
  
“AH right okay anyway. So he comes over and I'm like 'Oh Dr. Gaster would you like some wine'?” Lisa shouts. You can hear her pouring the last of the wine into the glass. She shuffles back into the living room. “And he's like, 'oh sure'. So I pour us both some wine and we get talking about the rules of thermodynamics in relation to his core project and like, so he's been working on this thing for literally decades” Lisa resumes her place on the encyclopedias. You roll back into your knees and place the pins back in your mouth. You resume carefully pinning the bottom of the dress while Lisa tries her best to remain motionless.  
  
“It's like, I think he said the original core is still in the Underground in like, the Northwest Territories which is like Canada and li-”  
  
“Lisa the point” you remind her. The dress was folded up too high in the area you just pinned. You had to restart.

  
“I, ugh ok. So he's telling me he's trying to find investors to rebuild it but on a much larger scale. WEIRDLY ENOUGH-” Lisa shouts, taking yet another sip of her refreshed drink.  
  
“WEIRDLY ENOUGH, no one is even remotely interested. There's too much money to be made in oil and he hasn't perfected it to the point where he can prove it'll work on a global level. Like he took the prototype to the Saudis and in the meeting he almost decked someone in the head”  
  
“Whoa really?”  
  
“(Y/N) I don't fucking know that's just what he-” Lisa hiccups “that's just what he said” you can see Lisa starting to sway a bit. It might be time to confiscate the wine or at least catch up.  
  
“Anyway he got so passionate talking about this project and like....” Lisa slouches, closing her eyes, “(Y/N) he's so fucking hot like...”. You pull your eyes away from the gaudy orange fabric to catch a faint redness creep over Lisa's face. You're not sure if it's the alcohol or the monster she's talking about.  
  
“I... I straddled his lap and tried to kiss him” Lisa admits. The room falls silent, except for the low hum of the record player that stopped playing long ago. You take the pins out of your mouth, a smile creeping onto your lips.  
  
“LISA OH MY GOD” a hearty laugh escapes you, “WHY WOULD YOU DO THAT?”  
  
“HE'S SEXY AND PASSIONATE ABOUT SCIENCE” Lisa yells back, hiccuping before continuing “and and.... he like” Lisa drops her head back, looking up at the odd stain.  
  
“He pushed me off and, and, and he just left” she explains, her pouty lips folding into a frown, "I went to his office hours a few days later to apologize but this asshole..." her head drops back down, a frown forming on her face, "this asshole apologizes to ME. Saying like, 'oh Ms. Blackwater I'm so sorry for the other evening, but you must understand that while I do see you as a very attractive human female, you're simply not my type'" she deepens her voice for the full Dr. Gaster effect.   
  
“Lisa, he's your supervisor" you look back to the dress as you press a pin through the folded fabric. "You're gorgeous, probably the smartest person I've ever met..." the pin won't press through all the way "...and you smell like lavender all the time. I'm sure he was just being polite and trying not to get fired” you try to reassure her. A sharp pain runs through your finger as you prick yourself with the stubborn pin. A tiny prick of blood forms on your finger. You immediately stick it into your mouth to halt the bleeding, or at least to avoid bleeding on the hem.  
  
“Well like, I'm kinda disappointed because..." Lisa falls quiet. The footsteps from the apartment above you break the silence as she stands straight, "...it felt like he had a big dick”  
  
You pull your finger out of your mouth “what?”  
  
You can hear Lisa giggling “I mean like, did you not check out his pants? I mean, not the hem but like...” Lisa makes a point to bend down to look at you and wiggle her eyesbrows suggestively.  
  
“Uh, no” you reply, a small smile still on your lips. Was this conversation happening?  
  
“(Y/N) why the fuck not you can practically see it from space” Lisa protests, a smile mirroring yours forming on her lips.  
  
“Sorry I'm not a sex criminal, Lisa”  
  
“Oh fuck off and get drunk with me you ass hole”  
  
\--  
  
2 bottles of wine, 2 vodka shots, 5 replays of the same Lou Reed album (Transformer) and 1 broken wine glass later Lisa had stripped the bridesmaid dress off and stumbled naked to her room, throwing a pillow and a quilt out for you. Even as drunk as you were, you remembered to hang the bridesmaids dress on a hanger and hang it from one of the cabinets in the kitchen, God forbid all that work be for nothing.  
  
Flipping from one side to the other you struggle to get comfortable on the old couch. The room was spinning, your stomach ached, and try as you might your eyes did not want to stay closed.  
  
You drop your hand to the floor, and pat around under the couch. Seeing as how Lisa kept books absolutely fucking everywhere, maybe there would be something interesting or at least boring enough to make you fall asleep under the couch.  
  
The first book you pull out is “Magical Engineering: from the underground to the overground 1900-1956, second edition By Dr. Xander V. Vitterberg”. You toss the book aside and go fishing again. The next book seems promising, seemingly written by a human; “Syntactic Structures by Noam Chomsky” which is then quickly tossed aside upon reading the first sentence in the forward.  
  
Finally, a thin book covered in dust emerges from under the couch, “Magic and You: A Simplified Primer on Magic From the Human Perspective by Dr. T. Reed and Dr. Doggo Sr.”. It's thin, has a dog and an old man on the cover and says “simplified” in the title. This is the book for you!  
  
Your vision is a bit bury as you open the book, and the room seems to be spinning at an alarming rate. The words jump around on the page as you try to focus, using the light shining in from the road as your light source.  
  
_“Humans do have souls but they are not the same as monster souls. Monster souls are their entire life force, while it is only a small portion of what makes up a human, as humans are more physical, ie carbon-based and Monsters are more composed of a non-carbon structure modern science can only describe as "magic". By this, human souls are very weak and can easily be overtaken by stronger monsters. It is not unheard of for a weakened human, or even a child, to become attached to a monster via a soul bond”_  
  
“What in the fuck is a soul bond” you mutter, turning the page. Dust falls from between the pages, tickling your nose.  
  
_“What is a soul bond”?_   you read, now feeling foolish.  
  
_“Soul bonding is the process in which two souls become interconnected via a bond modern human science has only come to call “chemical” but may be better described as “magical”. Soul bonding is seen as very intimate, something akin to a wedding in human culture._  
  
You close your eyes as tears start to well up from the dust falling on your face. You sneeze and your entire body shivers. A warm tear runs down your face as you open your eyes to read on, possibly skipping a few paragraphs but you're drunk what the hell do you know.  
  
_“Occasionally, soul bonding can take place between two unwilling parties. This is called a 'fate bond'. Fate bonding has been described as an unknowable bond between beings that has not been explained by modern science as of yet. While it is uncommon there are writings on the phenomena dating back to 3500 B.C. Beings that have been fate bonded are found to share the same chemical composition in the cerebral cortex th-”_  
  
You squint. You're not going to even attempt to read the names of the following chemicals, or the formula that follows. Wasn't this supposed to be simplified what is this shit.  
  
_“A fate bond, like a regular soul bond, can be rescinded if both parties are willing. However in a fate bond the likelihood of one or both parties becoming deceased in the process is much higher._  
  
_To break a soul bon-”_  
  
You want to read on but your eyes flutter close, a drunken haze taking over your consciousness as your hand falls off the side of the couch. The book tumbles to the floor.  
  
\--  
  
_“(Y/N)?”_  
  
_“Mm? Who's there?”_  
  
_But no body answers._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WOW YOU WERE READING ABOUT SOUL BONDING WHAT A COINCIDENCE  
> [eyes emoji]
> 
> If you've never listened to Lou Reed you probably should  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MsNI-31b0Mk&list=PLG3ZOr8MDys3Af_UeIj0fI0c2VId3a4D3
> 
> Nov 9; I edited and added a bunch of stuff in this chapter because I was really unhappy with how lazy I was with the descriptions and how many times I used the word "you" at the beginning of so many sentences. Possibly better but idk. Enjoy!


	3. PROPOSAL

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Your mom is the fiestiest

_Sunday, September 2 nd 1979  
  
  
_“Who's Doctor Gaster? Why does he keep calling for you? Are you pregnant? Is this one of those calls? You've never even had a human boyfriend how could you be pregnant? We're going to have to move to Oklahoma so people don't talk and just (Y/N) how could you I-I-I-”  
  
You were able to remove one arm from your jacket before your mother started yelling at you. You blink, trying to comprehend what she's saying. The taste of vomit still lingering hot in your mouth stops you from really focusing. Her hands planted firmly on her hips as she eyes you down. Not sure of what else to do, you slowly begin removing your other arm from the jacket with wide eyes.  
  
Your mother huffs and storms back to her seat in the worn yellow chair at the kitchen table, cigarette dangling precariously from her mouth, “I can't believe this” she mutters, picking up the almost empty pack of cigarettes and shaking it into her opposite hand. She still had her bangs up in curlers while the rest of her hair lay limp around her face and shoulders, crispy from the over bleaching.  
  
“Mom... what?” you close your eyes as you pinching the bridge of your nose with your thumb and forefinger “what in the hell are you talking about?” mixing white wine and vodka was a poor choice.  
  
“Well why is this Doctor calling you? I don't know where you're really going at night! Are you a prostitute?”  
  
A groan escapes your mouth as you kick your sneakers off, smearing vomit from the front of one shoe onto the back of the other. It was bad enough that you puked on the bus, you were not in the mood to be screamed at.  
  
“Doctor Gaster is a client, like, a real client” you drop your bag and jacket next to the door. The shower was practically screaming your name. Your mother shoots you another glare, “I mean like, not a sex client. Like I think he wants me to hem his pants” you explain, poorly.  
  
Your mother crosses her legs aggressively and the old vinyl chair cuts the tension with a loud squeak. She turns her head towards the window. “How did he get our number? Who recommended him?” demands fly out of her mouth as quickly as the smoke does.  
  
You shuffle into the kitchen and throw your arms around your mother's shoulders, “uh, Lisa did. But I met him the other day when I went to get Lisa's dress. He's...” you lower your head, breathing in your mother's scent. Smoke, bleach, and L'eur du Temps, by Nina Ricci. It was the perfume your father bought your mother when they began dating in the late 40's. Almost 30 years later and she still wears it. The combination of the smoke and the perfume fill you with a sense of security, with love, with nostalgia. You love your parents, you love that this perfume is a symbol of their love, of a time when they didn't have a lot of money your father was able to scrape enough together to purchase her something she'd wear long after his death. You'd never tell her but sometimes when you know you'll be away overnight you spray her perfume on your wrist to feel close. Your soul flutters.  
  
“...he's an interesting guy. He's a professor of I think mechanical engineering at the University. Lisa told me he has like 5 different PHDs and a ton of degrees” you finish, pulling yourself out of your nostalgic memories.  
  
“Why hasn't he gone to Henson's if he's so intelligent?” your mother snaps. She leans her head into yours reassuring you that she still loves you. Your mother's false anger is a poor cover for her worry.   
  
“Uh, apparently he's too busy trying to create an alternative to oil to take care of his pants” you smile, closing your eyes, resting your cheek against her polyester robe. A small delicate hand lands softly on your own.  
  
“You smell like vomit”  
  
"Yeah I know"  
  
\--  
  
After you step out of the shower you find the mirror is completely fogged, blurring your naked self. Washing the vomit out of your mouth and shaving your legs made you feel as if you had washed your very soul. You feel at ease for the first time this week. You pick up one of the towels from atop the toilet and wipe the condensation off the mirror in a single, quick swipe.  
  
_“(Y/N)”_  
  
That couldn't have been anything. You look yourself up and down in the mirror. You aren't hard to look act, in fact you think yourself to be quite attractive. From your non-descript facial and body features to a skin colour you couldn't describe with words you really had it all. But if you were such a catch how come you've never had a human boyfriend like your mother mentioned? You've had lots of monster boyfriends and you mainly got picked up by monsters whenever you adventure to the bar with Lisa and her sister Laurel whenever she was in town. It didn't make any sense. Mildly defeated you throw your head forward and wrap your hair with the plush white towel. Standing up straight and staring into the mirror you see Dr. Gaster staring back at you. You heart jumps as you stare back. Your soul tugs at you to turn around.  
  
“WHAT THE FU-” you yell, turning around and backing up into the counter in a single fluid motion.  
  
But no one was there  
  
Frantically you whip back around. It's only you, naked, soul shivering so badly it physically hurts. You lean over the counter and look closely into your reflection's eyes. You pull at the skin around your eyes, pat down your cheek, and follow your hands down the front of your chest.  
  
“What's that...”you murmur, patting your lower sternum. A faint, grey outline had appeared. An odd stain. Your hands lower to your side as your heart jumps in your chest.  
  
It's nothing.  
  
\--  
  
Freshly dressed with a large cup of green tea you sink into the couch next to your mom. She makes no movements or noise as her eyes are glued to the TV. Happy Days, nothing else was going to get her attention. Amazingly, she was still able to sew button holes while caught up in the thrilling rerun. The new season didn't start til the 11 th as your mother had been telling you since the beginning of August.  
  
Your eyes glance up at the screen for a split second to see Fonzie working under a hearse. Your eyes dart over to your mother,. She is unblinking and her old hands work quickly. You wish you could sew button holes like your her but you never got the hang of it.  
  
Pressing yourself back further into the couch you get to work on hemming a dress young rabbit girl. So tiny, so delicate. You make quick work of removing the lace from the bottom of the dress to be reattached later. You met this girl over week ago, but were so backed up with work you didn't get a chance to work on her dress until now. It fills you with guilt that you were unable to finish this for the first day of school.  
  
_'I wonder what she wore'_  
  
\--  
  
Halfway into 'Fonzie's Funeral Part 2” the phone rings. Without any words, you pull yourself away from the couch, tip toe around the pile of clothes to be tailored and clothes neatly folded and sprint to the kitchen. You pick up the plastic yellow phone and hold it to your ear.  
  
“Hello?”  
  
“Ah, Hello, this is Dr Gaster, I'm calling for Ms. (Y/N)(Y/LN)”  
  
You shiver. He caught you.  
  
“Oh, hello Dr. Gaster, this is (Y/N)” you lean into the wall and begin twirling the phone cord around your finger.  
  
“Ah, Ms (Y/LN) I'm glad I am finally able to speak to you. I'm afraid Mrs. (Y/LN) was quite cross with me for calling so many times for you”  
  
“Oh yeah, I'm sorry about my mom she can be something”  
  
“It's no trouble, Feisty humans are indeed few and far between"  
  
“Uh, huh. Well she's the feistiest”  
  
The line is silent for a moment. The cold tile is making you wish you had slipped some socks on when you were getting dressed. In fact, you felt positively freezing.  
  
“I'm sure as Ms. Blackwater pointed out to you, my clothing seems to need a lot of work and you came very highly recommended.”  
  
“Oh, thank you Dr. Gaster that's really nice of you to say”  
  
“So I have a rather.... unusual proposal for you, Ms (Y/LN)”  
  
“Dr. Gaster you can just call me (Y/N)”  
  
The line falls silent again. Something tugging at your soul forces you to stand back up of your own volition again.  
  
“...(Y-)...(Y/N)” Dr. Gaster seems to be stumbling over your name for some reason, “I would like for you to come to my home to work on wardrobe. It's really quite extensive and I would really like everything sorted sooner rather than later”  
  
You furrow you brow, and you didn't know but your cheeks had turned pink.  
  
“D-Dr.Gaster that's really not a service I offer I don't think I'd be ab-”  
  
“I'll pay you ten-thousand dollars for the week, regardless of if you need the full week or not. As well as whatever accommodations you would need”  
  
This was now a difficult decision.  
  
“Oh, in that case I would be happy to Dr. Gaster”  
  
Okay maybe it wasn't  _that_ hard of a decision.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a short chapter, mainly to establish some things about the reader's mother and to chug the story long.
> 
> FUNFACT: You can still purchase L'eur du Temps and I only know this because my dad buys it for my mom every Christmas. It's the fanciest smell I know.


	4. INFORMATION

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cause knowledge is power!  
> I'll probably edit this again in a few hours, I just want to get to the meat of the story sob sob

_Sunday, September 2 nd 1979_  
  
You lift your finger off the phone's plunger. As soon as you hear the dial tone you begin to frantically dial Lisa's number. Heart racing as you raise the receiver to your face once more. You glance back to your mother in the living room. She's still wrapped up in Happy Days. You quickly tip toe around the corner into the hallway near the front door. Your stomach flipping inside your torso. The phone rings twice.  
  
“He-”  
  
“HE OFFERED ME 10 GRAND TO STAY AT HIS HOUSE AND HEM HIS PANTS” you cut Lisa's hello short to scream at her.  
  
“....(Y/N?)”  
  
“TEN. GRAND.” You repeat, pressing your back flat into the wall.  
  
“Who? Dr. Gaster?”  
  
“Yeah”  
  
The line falls silent, as it did when you told Dr. Gaster to call you by your first name.  
  
“....does he want to fuck you?”  
  
“I think he just wants me to hem his pants”  
  
“You know I respect you and your profession but no one is worth 10 grand in um, hemmed pants" Lisa pauses, you hear a chuckle on the other end "he wants your pussy.”  
  
You cringe “Ew don't use that word”  
  
“What, pussy? Did you want me to say cunt?”  
  
You cringe harder as Lisa laughs on the other end.  
  
“Either way that's nothing to scoff at, that's like my tuition for my graduate program” Lisa groans on the other end.  
  
“Yeah I'm gonna do it, he's sending a car for me tomorrow apparently. I didn't know that was a thing people could do”  
  
“Yeah he's a super wealthy guy, I'm not even sure why he's teaching to be honest with you. How long are you staying there for?”  
  
“The week”   
  
Lisa is silent again.  
  
“Oh but don't worry I'm gonna take your dress with me and I'll work on it when I'm bored of working on his pants” you reassure her.  
  
“Sure sure. Working on getting into his pants”  
  
“Lisa”  
  
“I mean like he's a good looking monster, lets be real.”  
  
“Hey I've been meaning to ask like... what kind of monster is he?”  
  
“He's a Lich”  
  
You fell silent. The phone cord pressed into your neck as you curled it around the fingers on your right hand.  
  
“... what's a Lich?”  
  
“Uh well, honestly it's kind of hard to say. There aren't really a lot of them around. Most of them got massacred before monsters were sealed in the underground in the 1600s, and even then the ones that escaped most of them ended up breeding with humans and it resulted in a lot of weakened bloodlines and half breeds so to find a full blooded Lich is pretty fucking rare. And then when the barrier was bro-”  
  
“Lisa Lisa Lisa, I don't need a history lesson, I just want to know like, what he is”  
  
You hear Lisa huff “Well I can't tell you you'd have to ask him”  
  
“I can't ask him that's like asking someone why they're white”  
  
You hear Lisa laugh on the other end.  
  
“Well maybe it's a question you shouldn't be asking then. Oh also did you find that book I stuck in your bag?”  
  
You look over to your overnight bag still hiding under your jacket on the floor.  
  
“I...haven't finished unpacking it yet”  
  
“It's the one you were reading!! Magic and You: A Simplified Primer on Magic from the Human Perspective by Dr. T. Reed and Dr. Doggo Sr.”  
  
“How did you know I was reading that?”  
  
“It was on the coffee table, it's usually under the couch”  
  
“...okay but why did you put it in my bag?”  
  
“Because I'm very supportive of your educational endeavors”  
  
\--  
  
After the phone call with Lisa you rejoin your mother on the couch. “So interesting news!” You cuddle up next to her. The credits for Happy Days scrolling up the TV screen.  
  
“Whys that? Did Dr. Gaster finally manage to speak to you?” she asks, resting her head atop yours.  
  
“Yeah he wants to uh, pay me 10 grand to do his entire wardrobe” you close your eyes. The bleach and perfume takes you away again. Your dad's grin fills you with warmth.  
  
“Oh that's fantastic!” your mom exclaims, sitting up. She's suddenly filled with life.  
  
“Yeah he just... uh, wants me to work on it at his home. He said he'd pay for all the accommodations and whatever else I needed.”  
  
“...you're going to stay at his man's house?” your mother asks.  
  
“He's actually a monster. A... a Lich apparently? I'm not really sure what that is though.”  
  
The look your mother shoots you causes your stomach to flip. You feel your soul try to tug you to your bedroom.  
  
“...you can't go” her smile melts into a frown as she gets up from the couch. Her yellow polyester robe remains bunched up in the back.  
  
“Uh, yes I can because that's a shit ton of money and we need it” you protest, getting up and following her into the kitchen. Your mother is already sitting in her worn yellow chair, cigarette in hand.  
  
“I won't let you” she says, lighting her cigarette.  
  
“I'm sorry you won't LET me?” you repeat, placing a hand on the yellow counter. The sun was already starting to set, casting the kitchen in an orange light.  
  
“Well, I thought you'd like to know I'm going tomorrow. Apparently he's sending a car at like 8:30 in the morning. If you want to wait with me that would be lovely but if not I'll see you in a week”  
  
“(Y/N) you canNOT BE NEAR HIM” Your mother yells, ashing her cigarette harder than necessary. Your mother did have strong opinions, but she never raised her voice like this at you. Not since you were a teenager anyway.  
  
You shrug, looking out the window. All things considered you have a really nice view of Seattle and a little bit of lake Washington. It wasn't so bad living in an apartment but you certainly missed your old house. The apartment was cramped, loud, and it smells weird. Your mother pulls you back into the conversation with a puff of smoke.  
  
“Ten grand is a lot of money, it'll really help us and I could even put a down payment on a house so we could get out of here” you conclude.  
  
“We're fine where we are” Your mother takes a long drag from her cigarette, “the point is you're not going”  
  
“I already told Dr. Gaster I'm going, and I'm going. This conversation is over”  
  
“(Y/N)!”  
  
\--  
  
Ever the dramatic, petulant child, you lock yourself in your room. Your slamming, stomping, and huffing was very short lived as you realized you were actually quite tired. Your mother having given up banging on the door almost as quickly as you gave up your own hissy fit.  
  
In your rage, you laid out your clothes for the week. Lots of sweaters, jeans, t-shirts, really just the usual. Looking at the lack luster outfits for the week you wonder if it would be in poor taste to bring a pretty dress or a matching set of underpants. Figuring it would be less work and more of an excuse to not be invited to dinner you chose against any dresses. You jam everything into your duffel bag and glance around your room when the book Lisa hid in your bag catches you eye as it sits on top of your dresser. Moments later, you're flat on your stomach resuming from where you left off yesterday.  
  
_“To break a soul bond both parties must agree to the split. From there both parties must actively force their souls from their bodies and engage in a soul purge. A soul purge occurs when the bearer of the soul forcefully expels the physical essence of their former mates soul from their own. This is often a painful and emotional process, according to those who have successfully broken a soul bond. If the two parties do not voluntarily cease the process and proceed with the split it can end in one of two ways. The first way is a successful split, wherein the two parties successfully purge the physical essence of former mate's soul from their own and place it back within the other so they are whole again. This takes a great deal of focus, strength, concentration and general luck. However if one or both parties are unable (or refuse) to replace the soul back into the former mate, the party who did not receive their soul is at greater risk for what is known as a soul collapse, which is the folding in, or collapsing, of the soul. About 98.7% of all reported cases of soul collapse end in death. Generally Boss monsters (see Chapter 1) are able to walk away from soul purges unscathed, but they are certainly not without their own emotional scars.”  
  
_ You rub your temple. This all sounds very odd. You vaguely recall Mrs. Oppel talking to your mother about her sister who attempted to break a soul bond, but this was almost 6 years ago you don't recall how it ended.  
  
The next section talks about chemical and physical compositions of different kinds of monsters, which doesn't really interest you. You flip the page, again, then again, then again, when you spot the word 'half breed'. That was interesting.  
  
_“Monster and human couplings are uncommon but they do occur. Some such couplings have been known to produce offspring. These offspring are known as half breeds. The majority of the half breed species are unique and tend to end with a single being as they often born sterile according to Haldane's rule (see glossary). However some half breed types have managed to flourish with a variety of bloodlines. The three most common types are zombies, mermaids, and witches. It is commonly believed that these types were able to flourish as they are able to mate with humans to produce another “half breed” in the bloodline, those these creatures are very rare._  
  
'Whoa I had no idea' you think, rolling over onto your back. There was so much you didn't know about monsters. Why wasn't this stuff taught in school? Maybe you would have gotten better grades. You glance up at the clock on your wall, 11:46pm. Oh fuck, you had to be up early, but the thirst is real.  
  
You slowly open the door to your room. The dark hallway is illuminated from the light coming from your room. The sickly scent of cigarette smoke and perfume invades your nose. Your mother is in the kitchen.  
  
“Mom, go to bed” you groan, walking to the cabinet to grab a glass. A puff a smoke in the moonlight assures you you're not alone.  
  
“Is ten grand really worth your free -hic- will?” she asks. The closer you get to the cabinet the stronger the smell of whiskey. She is also drunk.  
  
“Ma, I literally have no idea what you're talking about” you reach for a glass, and turn the faucet on. You hear the clink of her glass on the table and the squeak of the vinyl as your mother raises from the chair. Your heart jumps as you feel her heat next to you.  
  
“Your father would be so disappointed” she hisses.  
  
You turn off the faucet after filling your glass, turning on your heel.  
  
“Dad wouldn't have used emotional manipulation like that” you hiss back as you stoically march back to your room.  
  
However, the second you were within the sanctity of your room and your glass was on top of your dresser, you fall face first into your bed, full body sobbing.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also this takes place in Seattle wow why didn't I mention that before I actually did a lot of planning for this.
> 
> Also also if you want to chat at me you can find my tumblr dedicated to this story (and maybe others in the future???) at pretty-wiccan-thing.tumblr.com wow how fun. There isn't much there right now but soon.jpg
> 
> Edit: wow way to Edit meow_witch good edits


	5. LEAVE

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dr. Gaster's house is legit and you experience some weird thoughts and feelings.
> 
> Update: oops I added a tiny bit of smut but it's not real smut so... I'm not gonna mark the chapter and get everyone all jazzed for nothing.

_Monday, September 3rd 1979_  
  
You clutch Iona, your sewing machine in your hands. You named Iona after a name you read in a book when you were a little girl. You don't remember the name of the book, or anything about the book, but the name stuck. She was heavy, she was awkward to hold, and she was very expensive, but she was the first major purchase of your adult life. She made you life so much easier, especially when you had to hem tshirts, or close up arm holes. You love her like a child; she is your child.  
  
The cold cement of the stoop feels as if it's burning your thighs. Your mother stayed up all night drinking, and continued to drink as she took a shot from her flask with her right hand, her left hand holding onto Mrs. Oppels arm as she shook. It had been almost 6 months since she went further than the foyer of your apartment, and a year and a half since she'd actually stepped foot outside.  
  
“Are you nervous dear?” Mrs. Oppel's soft, kinda voice breaks the silence. She's wearing a winter jacket and still shivering. Being a cold blooded monster in a pacific west coast state was not a very good choice for her.  
  
You shift, resting an elbow on your duffel bag. “Uh, no why would I be?” You ask, looking down the road. You were not sure what the car was going to look like, who was driving, where exactly you were going, but you just wanted to leave. Your soul felt like it was floating, gently tugging you to look to your right.  
  
“Well, Dr. Gaster is a very powerful monster. Flora said she's seen him around campus and said he's very intimidating. You'll be in his house, aren't you scared?” She asks. You hear the worry in her voice.  
  
“Well, I'm not trying to fuck him so I think I'll be okay” you huff, readjusting Iona in your arms. You wrap both your arms around Iona as your mother suddenly breaks away from Mrs. Oppel's grasp and wraps her arms around your shoulders.  
  
“Baby” the smell of whiskey is almost overpowering. Everything in your being is telling you to shove her off you but she's your mother and you love her, despite how weird she's acting. “This isn't going to... to.... to end well” she manages to blurt out before lowering her forehead to your shoulder. She's crying.  
  
“It'll be fine” you grumble in annoyance.  
  
“But what if it's not” shes groans as she sobs into your jean jacket.   
  
“Then I'll call, or just leave an-” you stop, shrugging your shoulder as a sign for your mother to move her head. She sits up, lipstick smeared, “are you two serious? I'm an adult woman I can take care of myself”  
  
Your mother goes back to leaning on Mrs. Oppel. You can hear her whisper to Mrs. Oppel, catching a few words, like “Lich”, here and there. You exhale through your nose, wishing the car would come sooner, though you did decide to come down at 8:20 so it was partially your own fault.  
  
Come to think of it you weren't absolutely sure what was going to happen. Maybe you would quietly work for the entirety of the week and get paid, or maybe you would end up, as your mother and Mrs. Oppel think, dismembered and raped in a basement. Your heart is beating wildly in your chest, but your soul is at ease, as if it knows this is exactly where you're supposed to be at this time.  
  
Then your soul starts jumping and tugging at you to stand as a black car pulls up into the driveway of the apartment. This must be it. You stay seated as it pulls up in front of you. You see yourself reflected in the sheen of the paint. There's a buzzing as the window rolls down; power windows, very ritzy.  
  
An orange blob of a monster waves from the driver's seat “Ms. (Y/LN)?” it asks. You smile and nod.  
  
The orange blob monster assists you with your things, placing your duffel bag and Iona into the trunk. Your mother is still sobbing, as Mrs. Oppel helps her stand. In a fit of desperation she grabs the sleeve of your jacket, being careful not to step down from the stoop.  
  
“(Y/N), baby, please” she pleads, tears running down her cheeks carrying with them her mascara. She looks an absolute mess.  
  
“Ma, someone has to take care of you”  
  
“I can take care of myself” she objects, pulling into your jacket harder.  
  
You lower your brow, pulling away from her. “You can't even come outside without getting drunk first, how the hell are you going to keep a job?”  
  
Your mother's look of fear slowly melts into that of sadness. She raises her brow, letting go of your jacket, and falling into Mrs. Oppel's arms. She almost knocks both of them over.  
  
Mrs. Oppel holds both of your mother's hands and helps her back up to the landing of the steps. Both women looking at you with sad eyes, both shaking. One from cold, one from fear and overwhelming worry.  
  
But why. Why did they not want you to go so badly. This was insane you were just going to work. You sigh. The blob monster opens the door for you. You look back at the pathetic display before you, then climb into the car without another word.  
  
\--  
  
The drive is only a few minutes, or so it seems. In reality with the morning traffic it took almost 30 minutes. You're silent, and the orange blob monster is silent. Only the hum of the radio and the sounds of traffic could be heard. You snuggle into the leather seat, arms crossed over your chest. You hadn't been in a car in a long time. Really the last time you were in a car was about 3 years ago when you dated a bird man, Flip. Flip's car was an actual piece of shit but he always insisted on taking you out to Copalis beach almost 3 hours away so he could fuck you there. Twice you got stranded there, and at least 4 times you broke down on the way there. He was a shitty boyfriend with a shitty car and a shitty vacation spot. You were glad to be done with him, but you did miss riding around in his car, essentially whenever you wanted.  
  
The driver pulls up to a gated community, rolling the window down to talk to the dog monster controlling the gate. You pressed your face to the window. The gate was large, white, and surrounded by a meticulously groomed garden, the only plant you recognize is the deer fern.  
  
The gate suddenly buzzes and opens, allowing the car entrance to continue deep into the community. The houses seem to be blending together. Large, 2 story, white, ferns, driveways, who cares. Would you ever live in a place like this? Probably not willingly, but it certainly did give you a bit of nostalgia for your old neighborhood, though it wasn't gated and certainly wasn't this well manicured. The driveways seemed to all be empty, which makes sense. The people who own these houses must all be on their way to work. For the first time in a long time you were too.  
  
The car finally reaches the end of the road, and pulls into the driveway of the only house at the end of the cul-de-sac. “Well, Ms (Y/LN) this is it” the driver says, looking over to you, your face still pressed against the window. Dr. Gaster's house, like the others, is impressive. A large white House at the end of an entire neighborhood of large white houses, but you feel as if you could have picked it out of the bunch.  
  
  
\--

  
The driver helps you carry your things into the house. You're awestruck. The house was certainly much larger on the inside. Before he left, the driver informed you that Dr. Gaster was called to an emergency meeting at the university, but he should be back around noon and to make yourself at home.  
  
Glancing around you feel like you were wasting money just standing there on the lush, ornate rug. To your left was closed door, trying to turn the handle you realized it was locked as well. To your right you see a piano and decide to investigate. You walk into the room housing the piano and to your surprise it's a huge living room. A bay window looks out into the suburb, flooding the room with bright, natural light. You continue down to the other window when you stop in front of a rather large fireplace. It's pristine, almost as if it's never been used but the scorched brick in the back tells another story. Above the mantle is a large painting, a landscape of a snowy mountain. A strange choice to have a snowy mountain just above a fire. You reach the opposite end of the room, and peek through the thick, navy curtains. There was a porch, with a... pool? You didn't take Dr. Gaster for being much of a swimmer, too composed. Though he wasn't above telling a rude joke or laughing casually with beautiful women, maybe he did a lot of entertaining.  
  
You make a soft 'huh' noise. To your left, another sets of doors left open lead into a dining room. The table is long, at least 8 chairs on either side. A truly gaudy chandelier hangs above. The light from the french double doors leading to the porch shines on the chandelier, casting tiny rainbows around the room. It was pretty magical actually. It was becoming more and more apparent that Dr. Gaster must do a lot of entertaining. Who does he entertain? Probably other old scientists and.... Models or something. A small tinge of possessiveness fills your soul, but you shake it off only to be given a flash of yourself sitting next to Dr. Gaster who sits at the head of the table, commanding the room filled with people you didn't recognize. You're dressed so elegantly, dripping in diamonds. He touches your hand proudly, announcing something you can't hear before looking back to you with a smile plaster against his pure white face. You're in love.  
  
You continue to wander in an attempt to leave that strange vision. The room to the left of the dining room was just a small kitchen, nothing really exciting but certainly much larger than your own. The wrought iron stair cases on either side of the doors leading directly to the dining room got the best of your curiosity and you decide to investigate upstairs as well.

As you climb the stairs you feel at ease. Your soul feels at home, filling you with warmth. You get a flash of Dr. Gaster, marching down these very steps, briefcase in hand ready to start the day and you waiting at the door to kiss him goodbye, his barefoot, pregnant, wife. He rests a hand on your hip, telling you words you can't understand before kissing your forehead.

You freeze, blinking rapidly. You tap your chest, as if to ask your soul if it's okay. The very thought, a conscious thought, of any of that makes you to retch. Or at least that's what you tell yourself when your soul starts to sing at the thought.

You quickly finish ascending the stairs. To the left, an empty guest room. Maybe where you'll be staying, you suspect. To the right another empty guest room. Oh, maybe you'll stay here.  
  
The doors in the middle past the small sitting area however, lead somewhere very interesting.  
  
“Dr. Gaster's room...” you guess aloud. It smells clean, almost sterile. Everything meticulously in place, not even a wrinkle in the bedspread. You glance down into the bed and can't help but think how many women may have slept here. How many women, how many humans or monsters got the privilege to lay in this bed with him, got to writhe below him, or glance over their shoulder to catch him, in a moment of pleasure, break his composure and let a moan escape his lips. How many woman got the pleasure of being with him, even for a night.

Another flash, your eyes are half open, your hair sticking to your forehead, your face pressed firmly against the mattress. Dr. Gaster's hands firmly grasping your hips as he growls your name, pulling your hips to meet his thrusts. Each thrust hits you in your deepest depth, sending shocks of pain and pleasure of each of your nerve endings. Your moaning tells him you're aching for release. A quick finger against your clit, a demand from your lover; you're close, and his groans, his shallow thrusts, his tightening grip on your hips tell you he's close too. You whimper his name once more befo-

That vision was a bit much and you come to the conclusion it's best to just walk away before losing yourself there.

You were expecting to be inundated with thoughts and memories of your father. Mercifully you were not. Unmerciful you seem to be only able to think about Dr. Gaster in ways that made you question your own feelings.   
  
Well, not in that way you'd met the monster once. Developing feels  _that_ quickly was something you gave up in high school. As an adult you had the good sense to distinguish between infatuation and real love. Not that you had ever been in love but you knew the difference. Probably.

You continue to glance around the room, drawn to the french doors leading to the balcony. The morning sun calling your name and your soul tugging at you to go outside.  
  
The sun greets you as you step out onto the balcony. The last few days of summer were your favourite. It was warm enough to wear whatever you wanted, but still cool enough that you weren't sweating your hair into a greasy disaster. You lean on the railing, first looking down into the bright blue pool, then your eyes draw up to look over the cityscape. It must be gorgeous at night.

Another flash, another vision of you giggling at some truly awful joke Dr. Gaster told you. You're standing on the balcony together. He takes you in his arms, his hands press firmly into the small of your back and he whispers something to you. He kisses you. It's night and the stars dot the sky above, the city glows from below but you only have eyes for him. It is gorgeous.

Back in reality you sigh, pushing off from the railing to head back inside.

\--  
  
You decide to make yourself comfortable in the living room with a glass of water, after much digging through the kitchen and swatting away strange thoughts and visions of you and the doctor. The sofa almost swallows you whole when you first sit down, but with some struggling and movement you were able to best the couch.

Opposite to the fireplace you found a record player with a rather impressive collection of records, including one of your favorites, Sunshine Superman by Donovan. You put it on and got back to work on Lisa's dress, slowly but surely working away at the hem stitch by stitch.  
  
Now you just needed to wait for Dr. Gaster.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> YEAH YEAH I KNOW where the fuck is Gaster.  
> Be patient, it'll be worth it. Yah gotta lay the groundwork before you get into the stuff.  
> He's got a job or whatever.
> 
> Also wow 2 updates in 1 night whats next? 3 updates in a night? Maybe.
> 
> Also pro-tip: get a white hot chocolate and put an earl grey tea bag in it wowowowowowo it's given me the energy to make my notes into the thing you read wowooww.


	6. BOND (*)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> WOWOWOW Stuff happens innocently enough, and then uhm.  
> A lot of important things actually happen during smut so I guess see the end notes if you wanna know but don't wanna read badly written smut.
> 
> I haven't written smut in years I'm sorry I'LL BE EDITING IT OVER THE WEEK TO BE LESS AWFUL I JUST WANTED TO PUT THIS INTO THE WORLD.

_Monday, September 3rd, 1979_  
  
You still weren't sure what the key was for so you just tucked it away in your bag to be forgotten. If it was important enough someone would probably tell you. The sun was beginning to set, and still no Dr. Gaster. Maybe his meeting ran long? Maybe he already forget he had sent for you. No matter, you were getting paid and you got to work on Lisa's dress and get a lot more done than you expected. This was okay with you.  
  
“What a lovely sight” a voice calls to you from the other end of the room. You jump, your heart races, and your soul screams at you to turn around. Dr. Gaster had slipped in silently, still wearing his long leather overcoat.   
  
“Oh, Dr. Gaster hello” you smile, placing Lisa's dress down on the coffee table and pulling yourself away from the sofa. You scurry over to the record player and turn it down, “I, I'm sorry I just like to listen to tunes when I'm working and and” you explain frantically. You meant to change back into your jeans after putting on your gym shorts to sit on the deck for a bit, but you were so comfortable. You attempt to pull the legs down to cover more of your thigh nervously.  
  
Dr. Gaster raises a hand. There's a hole in the hand and you close your mouth. Why didn't you notice that before. “I asked you to make yourself at home, and I can see you have. I'm afraid I'm the one who needs to apologize” he quickly closes the gap between the two of you. Your soul tugs towards him and you unknowingly sway. A vision flashes in your mind once more. Gaster's arms tightly wound around your waist as you sit in his lap on the very same sofa you just got up from. His hand lightly grazes your hip now and again. You're surrounded by other people, by other conversations, the thick smell of cigarettes and wine, loud music, but you're focused on him. Words of pride, gratitude, and love spill out of his mouth, but it doesn't matter what he's saying exactly. He's drunk. You're not.  
  
You blink hard to shoo the vision out of your mind. Suddenly, you begin to see what Lisa was talking about.  
  
He's talking, but you're not listening, just studying. You watch as he removes his overcoat, laying it over the sofa, he's left in a black turtle neck, and those same poorly hemmed pants you first met him in. His jaw thick and chiseled, his shoulders broad, and the cadence of his voice makes you feel at ease as you tilt your head slightly, getting lost in his visage. When he's not telling you bad jokes or talking about sciencey things you didn't understand, he is incredibly handsome.  
  
“Ms.(Y/LN)?” Dr. Gaster asks. Your eyes casually glancing at his crotch before shooting back up to his face. You didn't get to catch a good look to your dismay. You shouldn't be looking anyway, he's your employer after all.  
  
“Uh... yeah” you reply, not sure what you just agreed to. Dr. Gaster gestures with his head to follow him back out to the foyer. Silently you follow him, you feel like you could follow him to the end of the world without question as your soul guides you behind him.  
  
“I'm very glad you decided to come, I didn't think you would" Dr. Gaster casually mentions, turning his head slightly to look back at you  "Ms. Blackwater told me you were very upset with me”  
  
“I... she told you? I, I, I mean like...” your face is hot with embarrassment, your soul grows cold with shame. Lisa didn't really have much of a filter. You knew this, but still time and time again you tell her things you wouldn't tell anyone else, only to have them spread among your group of friends.  
  
Dr. Gaster smiles, a soft chuckle coming from deep within him. He casually picks up your open bag and Iona, your sewing machine.  
  
“I, I can carry those!” you exclaim, but he's already begun walking again, seemingly ignoring your last statement. You scamper up the stairs, chasing after him.  
  
“I do apologize Ms. (Y/LN), I didn't realize your father and academia, were a point of pain for you, but I really should have known better” he continues up the stairs and like a small puppy you follow at his heels. He smells like leather and books. What an enchanting smell.  
  
“It's really okay, you didn't know” you itch your wrist, cheeks still flushed.  
  
Dr. Gaster leads you to the room on the right. It's the room above the living room. “This is where you'll be staying. If you require more... pillows or face cloths or... whatever it is females need... cotton balls, please let me know immediately” he sets your belongings down by the door. You glance around, having not really looked around too much in this room on your first wander through the house. Like the rest of the house, everything was white, hardwood floors covered with yet another ornate rug. The bed looks particularly inviting however. You sleep in a single sized bed in your apartment, as that's all your room could comfortably manage. This bed was at least a queen or better.  
  
“That's very kind of you Dr. Gaster”  
  
“Please just... Gaster”  
  
You're both quiet for a moment, the silence enveloping you, your soul slowly pulling you closer.  
  
“...G-Gaster” you let his name slip out of your mouth. It feels right. You shiver at your new freedom. You feel as if you could scream his name from the top of a mountain.  
  
“Ah, would you like to see the disaster I hired you to fix?”  
  
Gaster formally introduces you to his room, and his closet. It's not nearly as bad as you thought, but he has a lot of clothing. Different styles that seem to transcend hundreds of years of fashion. It was like opening the door to a museum.You make a few notes in your notebook, and suggest to Gaster he may want to pare down his wardrobe to things he'll actually wear this century.  
  
\--  
  
Dr. Gaster is a lot more human than you expected.  
  
You manage to steady your hand as you encircle your arms around his waist, pulling the cloth tape measure taunt. He's radiating a lot more heat than you originally though he had based on the coldness of his touch in the coffee shop. He's so tall you didn't need him to stand on anything to get the measurements you need.  
  
“Uh huh, okay” you mumble, dropping to your knees to write down the measurement in your notebook. You feel his gaze crawling up your back. You raise once more, eyes still glued to the notebook as you tuck your pen behind your ear. “I guess I just need your shoulders, chest and arm length and I should have everything I need.” you look back to Gaster. You stare up at his face, down to his feet, and back up to his face.  
  
“I just need you to... uh”  
  
“Knees?” he asks, answering the question you were stumbling over.  
  
“Oh uh, yes please” you attempt a smile, as Gaster slowly gets situated on his knees in front of you, you're about the same height now.  
  
“Just keep your arms flat against you sides but like, natural” you instruct, dropping your own arms to the side as an example, “but not like this” you shrug your shoulders up high.  
  
In a fluid motion you watch Gaster lower his shoulders. His wide shoulders certainly have a lot of space to grip. You make a soft 'mm' noise, wondering where that thought came from. You proceed to wrap the tape measure around his shoulders, your faces inches apart. You feel his warm breath lightly gracing your neck as you check the numbers.  
  
Your soul is aching, screaming, clawing, and overall throwing a fit inside your chest. Physically, it burns. Your eyes flutter up to meet Gaster's and he quickly looks away. Was he feeling this in his soul too? Why was he so warm? Was it the room? You weren't sure what was going on. Your plan was to get the measurements and get out of his room. You could deal with the feelings on your own time.  
  
Mercifully flashes of your father had not started up again since Gaster returned home as you feared they would. In a cruel twist all you can think about is, well, Gaster. It started slowly as you first entered his house and has only gotten worse since he arrived. Being in such close proximity, occasionally feeling the skin on skin contact, was driving you mental. You can only think of him; how his thick leathery skin feels against yours, how his sinuous form might look above your own, the way he might bury his face in your neck. Your eyes shut tightly trying to brush the newer, more... intimate thoughts away.  
  
“Uh... G-Gaster” you choke out. Saying his name, without the Doctor part was giving you goose bumps. “Can you please raise your arms out like.. this” you asked, sticking your arms out on either side of you as an example of exactly what you wanted. Your breasts tug against your blouse, creating a gap. Without a word he complies, raising his arms to mirror yours. Despite his face being perfectly white, perfectly smooth, save for the cracks, you could swear you saw the faintest hint of red slowly creep acro-  
  
And then you're flat on your back, Gaster sitting above you. How hell how did this happen. He's warm, so very warm as he straddles your hips. His back is rounded as he looms over you. Your soul is getting exactly what it was aching for.  
  
'I knew I saw it” he hisses, hooking his fingers into the gaps of your blouse. He rips the two pieces of fabric apart, the buttons flying off, hitting the hardwood floor with a soft ting. His fingers slide under your bra and forces it up over your breasts.  
  
“What what saw what are you doing?!” you exclaim, arms flat to the ground as you try to sit back up. Your heart races. Was this the part where you get dismembered and raped? A large hand presses you back into the floor with ease while his other hand hovers above your chest, a single finger circling the odd stain on your sternum. His finger is long, rough, and commanding.  
  
“When did this happen” he demands looking up at you. Your brows raise. His breathing quickens, as does yours the more he circles the stain on your sternum. Your soul, interestingly enough, does not scream or pull you to escape. In fact despite your heart beating rapidly and your soul was completely at ease, other than the slight tug whenever Gaster's finger presses a bit harder into the odd stain.  
  
Oh fucking hell it felt good. A warm shiver washes over you, a familiar aching heat rising between your legs.  
  
“I... I... I...” tongue tied and mind foggy you're unable to articulate. You gasp loudly against the pressure of his fingers pressing into the stain. The awkward placement of your bra constricts your breathing.  
  
“Think, (Y/N)”, fucking THINK” Gaster yells, his breathing more like panting, his hand trembles against your shoulder.  
  
“S-SUNDAY” I SAW IT SUNDAY IN THE MIRROR” you scream, slamming your eyes shut as Gaster digs his nails into the stain. Tears well up in your eyes, your body feels like it's on fire, his fingers feel like they're touching your very soul.  
  
“Ha... haha, (Y/N)...” Gaster drops his head into your neck, saying something you can't understand. The hand that was circling the stain now flat on the floor.  
  
“(Y/N), do you understand” he asks, tilting his head to speak softly into your ear. You tremble against his breath, it's so warm in your neck. You feel everything he's saying reverberate through your soul as the tears slowly amass behind your eye.  
  
“(Y/N)” Gaster whispers your name like a secret. Your name on his tongue fills you with shivers, a knot in your stomach, and certainly doesn't help the budding heat between your thighs.  
  
“I... I don't know, Dr. Gaster” you exhale, dropping your head to the side to meet the hand still gripping your shoulder. You feel weak and warm, too warm to move. If you weren't actually confused and terrified you could have just as easily fallen asleep.  
  
Gaster sits up, straddling your hips and pinning your own to the floor. “Look” you hear the rustling of fabric as he pulls up the bottom of his black sweater. You sit up on your forearms, your eyes opening and immediately drawn to the bulge in his pants, pressing into your crotch but missing your clit. Your insides ache with desire.  
  
“Look _up_ ” he growls, correcting you. Your eyes slowly climb him. The edge of his pants, up his stomach, to... an odd stain on his sternum. The very same grey blotch, staring back at you as you stare into it.  
  
“W...what is that” you ask. Your soul demands you extend a hand to touch it, and you do. As soon as your fingertips touch Gaster's sternum, he lets out a sharp breath.  
  
“Ah... hah, (Y/N)” he laughs, lowering himself back down to bury his face in your neck. “Ha... haha... haha....I can't believe... ha, you just fell into my lap like this” his breathing is erratic, his breath dances on your skin.  
  
You're confused, dizzy, scared and desperately horny at this point. “I don't understand”  
  
“I know... I know I know I know I know” Gaster repeats frantically his hands on either side of you as he pushes himself back to sitting on your hips. His head drops down into his chest, “just... ha... hahah. Look”  
  
Placing a head in front of the odd stain on your chest you see his magic, silky and black. A sharp ache stings your chest, the tears that gathered finally sliding down your cheeks as you slam your eyes shut. You feel empty, your chest aches as if all the air had been stolen from your lungs.  
  
“ _ **LOOK**_ ”  
  
Slowly, ever so slowly, you open your eyes. It's a blur of black, white, gold, and grey. You rub the tears away to focus.  
  
It's your soul. The thing that claws at your chest, that tugs you where you need to go, flutters when you see your lover, warms you body when you think of your loves ones. There it was, mabye the size of your palm, heart shaped, and white. A black splotch sits perversely in the middle while a golden haze surrounds it.  
  
“It's beautiful, yeah? Now watch” Gaster repeats the process on himself, grunting slightly as his own soul is pulled from his chest. You watch in amazement as he suspends his own soul, also heart shaped, roughly the same size as your own, with the same splotch directly in the middle of his black soul, shining that same brilliant white as your soul.  
  
“Ha... ha... hahah” Gaster beings laughing as the two souls float back inside their respective hosts. Your soul passes through your chest and feels someone jerked it back into place. It was quite a jarring experience.  
  
“You.... we.... we” Gasster sits down on your thighs, a hand pressed against his temple. “We fate bonded” you feel him shiver, “we fate bonded” he looks down at your, directly into your eyes, “Me into you... and you... you... into me. Haha.... hahahah, I knew it” he drops down with his hands on either side of you, his face inches from yours.  
  
“I knew I wasn't crazy. I knew there was a reason you were in my thoughts, my dreams, visions. You were everywhere” he hisses, his shivering coming to a halt as he rests his forehead against yours. You could do it. You could raise your head and kiss him and let this snowball into something else, as your body so ached, and your so soul screamed for you to do. But you relent.  
  
“Do you know how many times I've seen you this last week? How many times I've seen you sewing on my sofa, quietly reading in my office, carrying my child in your arms” you swear you can feel him gently grinding his pointed hips into your own, his length grazing your heat “I don't even fucking know who you are” he groans into your, lips making contact before gently nibbling your lobe.  
  
The wetness between your legs feels almost unbearable. You ache, you want. You want him to take your bottoms off, have his way with you. Your soul was begging, your body was begging. You wanted more. You needed more.  
  
“Yet...” Gaster's voice is soft and breathy. He raises his hips slightly, bringing a hand down to pressing into your clit through your shorts, “I know everything about you. I know what you are, I know what you want” he hisses, pressing harder into you, eliciting a loud moan from you. You buck your hips into his hand, desperate for more. You grasp his shoulders for leverage. What is even happening. One minute you're taking his measurements and the next... this. Is this going to fast? Does it really matter.  
  
You groan as his hand is taken away from you, missing the stimulation. You whine as you drop your head to the other side. You can't even think. “P-please... I... I wan...want” your chest drops. The air tickling at your bare nipples. What are you doing?  
  
Without a word Gaster hooks a finger into your bottoms, pulling both your shorts and your underpants down around your knees before pulling them off your body. He situates himself between your legs as you gladly spread them for him. The cool air on your heat is uncomfortable. You stare up into the ceiling with your hands on either side of your head, not bothering to watch as Gaster makes quick work of his own pants. You pant, your soul flutters with anticipation. It's what your soul wants, it's what its been craving. A sharp gasp escapes you as you feel a rough, leathery finger slide up and down your wet slit.  
  
“Ah... fuck” Gaster huffs, you feel his soul reach out to your own as he climbs back of top of you, you can't wait much longer. The desire, the need, the absolute aching between your legs; you wanted him to satisfy it right here on the floor.  
  
“Again.... say it again” his voice is needy, as he plants soft kisses along your neck. Shivers run up and down your spine. You never want him to stop.  
  
“Gaster...” you roll your head back so you're looking directly into his sockets. Your stomach flutters, “I want you... I want you to fuck me” you moan arching your back and bucking your hips into him, rubbing your soaked folds against the head of his cock ever so slightly. Your eyes slam shut as his lips, mainly made up of his magic, find yours.  
  
You moan hard into his mouth as the head of his cock finds it way inside you. A mild pressure quickly turns into a harder pressure, then into a sharp pain as Gaster sinks the rest of his cock into your cunt. You feel each curve, each inch, everything inside you. He pushes deep, right to your cervix as he pulls his lips away from yours, your wetness making it easy to push through your tight walls.  
  
You're both motionless and silent as you both realize whats happened. Your breathing is shallow, mouth hanging open. He's inside you, your walls now aching at the girthy length deep within you. You've had sex before, but you felt lost. What were you supposed to do? Your brain feels empty as you study the Lich above you. You feel his cock twitch inside you; your walls twitch against him in turn.  
  
“I... ah...” Gaster looks just as lost as you his forehead finds yours again as if to ask for permission, to ask if this was okay. He presses into your harder, your eyes rolling back in a fit of pleasure. Yes, it was indeed okay. His withdraws from you, ever so slightly. Your wetness offers very little friction and he grinds back into you, perhaps a bit harder than he anticipated.  
  
“Ga...as...t” you begin to moan his name, but give up halfway through as he does it again. And again. And again. Your walls ache, a pressure is already building in your belly. “Gas...ter....” you begin to chant his name like a prayer, eyes closing. You were beginning to feel a pinch in your back from laying flat on the floor with nothing supporting your lower back, but it didn't matter. All you could focus on was Gaster, deep inside you, hitting a spot that within you that you weren't sure you knew existed.  
  
“I... I... I was so sure you were human” Gaster groans, pumping in and out of you, his eyes shut tightly. Your soul and walls flutter together in tandem as he continues.  
  
“I... I am human” you arch your back as one of his hands finds it's way into your. You grip his hand tightly. Your palm pressing up through the large hole in his hand feels like the weirdest thing in the world, but, again. It doesn't matter.  
  
“N-no... I... I know... it's... it's... ah” Gaster grips your hand back. You feel as if he couldn't get deeper within you, but he does. You let out a loud groan as he continues to grind further into you the pleasure you feel heavily outweighing the pain of something so hard thick grinding against your delicate cervix. You feel his cock twitch inside you once more.  
  
“I know... I know... I.. I know. I know. I know...” his pace quickens, he must be close too. It doesn't matter what he said, all you can focus on is his cock pumping in and out of you. Gaster unlaces your fingers, to lower a hand to your hip, pinning you to the floor once more as he pumps into you. Your free hand desperately grabs at anything as the pressure in your belly becomes unbearable. You're almost at your apex. Your moaning drowns out anything else Gaster tries to say to you. Gaster's thrusts become more and more shallow as his breathing quickens and gibberish starts to fall out of his mouth, the only word you catch is...  
  
" _witch_ "  
  
You're so warm, you feel a bead of sweat drop down your forehead and the slick wetness of your own cunt dripping down your ass.  
  
“I.... I... ah... (Y/N)... (Y/N)” his thrusts are as erratic as his breathing. Your own breathing quickens as you begin to feel it. You let out a garbled sob as you're pushed your to apex, a particularly hard thrust responsible for the sudden clamping of your walls down on Gaster's thick cock. Your senses are aflame, the room spinning around you. Your moan loudly again, and again, and again as Gaster continues, chasing his own orgasm.  
  
“Fuck fuck fuCK, (Y/N)!” Gaster yells as he tenses around yo and arches his back, his nails digging into your hip. With another deep thrust you feel yourself filled further as Gaster cums inside you. Your mind is in a haze when he releases your hip, and drops back down to press his lips into yours. His tongue breaches your lips, and curls around your own. Your walls flutter once, twice, three times in a pleasurable aftershock.  
  
Slowly, but surely the haze clears and it hits you. Chest rising and falling you draw away.  
  
“... what... did you call me?”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short list of things that happen:  
> -Gaster rips your top off to look at the stain on your chest, then shows you the same stain on his. He pulls your respective souls out to show you your own white soul with a black splotch and his black soul with a white splotch. Not to mention your soul has a gold haze around it.  
> -Gaster drops it on you that you fate bonded and has a laugh. The laugh turns into both of y'all doing the thing.  
> -During the doing it Gaster says he can't believe he thought you were human. You protest saying "I am a human". Gaster then says it's okay, and he knows your a witch  
> -After you both cum, you're silent before asking "what did you call me" and the thing ends because I like horrible cliff hangers like that.


	7. WITCH (*)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gaster accuses you of being a witch and you sass back, which leads to you being a dramatic dingus. You also eat soup directly out of a can.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again important plot points are explained during some smut so see the below notes if you're not about that life. I'm not giving a warning in the fic itself because I feel it messes with the flow, especially since the tense changes for that paragraph so I guess rip you if you read some smut you didn't mean to read, sorry.  
> ALSO I 100% wrote this chapter on my phone it's probably got some grammatical errors in it. I'm trying to find them ;_;

_Monday, September 3rd, 1979_

 

"What did you call me?" You ask, again.

Gaster pants, inches from your face, still deep within you.

"You... It's... I know you're a witch it's... it's okay"

This is news to you. Gaster unlaces his hand from yours as he pulls his slack length from you. His essence seeps out of you, thick, sticky, a bit silky. Regardless of the flutter of your walls it's still a disgusting feeling. Your senses are back and you're still confused. Confused as to why he'd call you a witch, why the he told you it's okay as if it was a secret you were keeping.   
  
Your abdomen aches in want, again but your stupid body can hold on for a fucking second.

"I'm not a witch" you prop yourself up by your forearms. Already standing, having done his pants back up, Gaster easily scoops you up from the floor into his arms. You lay limp in his arms, you wouldn't have been able to get up after being pounded into the floor like that. His chest is warm.

Gaster sighs, setting you down in his bed before sitting down next to you. Even if you were a witch you'd surely know. Right?

"...I'm not a witch" you repeat. Gaster brushes the hair off your face before removing the pen from being tangled in your hair and dropping it in the bedside table. A tinge in your soul tells you his is ruffling from within.

"Why are you arguing?" he asks leaning back on his hands, his gaze crawling over your face. Your own gaze crept down his arms to his hands. Upon a second glance the holes in his hands seem curiously round, as if they had been punctured purposefully. The scars seep out into the remainder of his palm and top of his hand. Was this something he endured for the sake of science or perhaps an odd ritual. For that matter what was up with the cracks in his skull, another possible sciene experiment gone wrong? Lisa said he was passionate, it wouldn't surprise you to hear he pushes the limits of his work on his own body.

"Because I'm not a fucking witch" an annoyed huff escapes you along with your words. You were arguing, but you are right.

"(Y/N)..." In a fluid motion Gaster is overtop of you once more "I'm your mate why the fuck would I lie to you?" He growls, hands on either side of your head once more. 

The hard thump in your chest begs you to shut up. Your soul is awash in warmth. He called you his mate. You're his mate. The rational part of your brain, screams.

"Unless...maybe you don't know" He falls silent, staring directly into your eyes. You look into his; black all the way back, they seem more like sockets than anything. His right eye permanently half lidden, though his other eye seems to be always somewhat lidden as well, either from fatigue or perhaps just to compensate.

"Get dressed"

\--

Mercifully Gaster allows you time to clean yourself up, grab a glass of water, and eat soup right out of the can to his disgust, before leading you through the locked door near the front door. To your surprise inside the locked door was an ordinary office complete with a large desk littered with papers and folders, wall of books, a wall of his many degrees and accomplishments, and photos of him shaking hands with a man in a suit, another of him smiling with yet another man in a suit... there were actually quite a few of these. He leads you through yet another door at the back of the office near a black leather chaise lounge. Your hands grip his shoulders as you follow him down the steps into the pitch blackness.

With the pull of a cord the room springs to life in the worst way. A large steel table, beakers, machines, lights, a wall with what looks like very sharp tools, cabinets filled with chemicals you couldn't pronounce and... a box of orange bandaids oddly enough. It's dark, it's dank, it's something out of a horror movie with the series of swinging drop lights. Furthermore with the rest of his home so grandiose and clean why would he leave his lab so messy and well, spooky? Rationality you know you should be afraid but since Gaster's soul is there with yours, you feel at ease, even as Gaster instructs you to sit on the steel table.

The cold metal nips at the back of your thigh. You chose to put the shorts back on and now you had to live with your decision. Making the best of a scary situation you kick your legs, hands flat on the table as you glance around, Gaster's back turned to you as he digs through a drawer.

"Why does you lab look like a mad scientist's lab" you ask, head dropped back as you stare into the light fixture.

"Perhaps it is because I myself am a bit mad" he replies, back still tuned to you.

"Oh" you reply matter-of-factly. The soup you ate earlier calmed you down, you feel a lot more relaxed and cooperative.

Until Gaster turns back around, holding a surgical blade, a glint in his eye. His face lowers ever so slightly, casting much of his face in shadow. "show me your hand"

"... no thank you" you frown as he draws near. Your soul wants to assure you all is well but, well... the man is stalking toward you with a knife. The rapid beating of your heart drowns out any reassuring vibrations your soul is trying to send.

"Will you stop acting like a child and show me your hand" Gaster demands as he stands in front of you, hand out stretched. Even with the table raised you don't come up much further than his chest. You shake your head no.

Forcibly he grabs your wrist, jerking your hand toward his chest.

"NO NO NO NO NO-" You scream slamming your eyes shut, trying to jerk your hand back but his grip is too firm. You desperately try to wriggle away. A sharp prick in your index finger jolts your senses. The grip on your wrist loosens. You open your eyes to see Gaster's back turned to you again. You inspect your finger; a growing droplet of blood balances on the pad of your finger.

Gaster turns back, a thin glass beaker half filled with a clear solution in hand and a look of disapproval on his face. He holds the beaker steady with one hand, and your now cooperative hand with the other. Gingerly he guides your finger over the lip of the beaker and gentle applies pressure to the puncture with his thumb and index finger.

One, two, three, four droplets slide down the side of the glass into the solution.

"You know if you told me you were just going to prick my finger I wouldn't have made such an asshole of myself" you say in a low tone. Your face is flush in embarrassment. Of course he wouldn't hurt you, what were you thinking. Your soul vibrates as if it tell you it told you so.

"I like how feisty you are" Gaster replies as he releases your finger and swirls the beaker to mix the solution and your blood. Almost immediately the solution turns white, gold flecks rising to the top. Gaster makes an approving noise as he sets the beaker back into its holder.

"So...?" you ask nervously, watching as Gaster retrieves a pencil and notebook from another drawer "am I going to be a mommy?"

"What" Gaster asks, looking over his shoulder at you.

"I... It's a joke. Y'know when you're at the hospital and the chick is waiting to hear the results of her test and that's the question they ask...and... It's..." You fall silent on your explanation of the joke. It was a shitty joke why would you even say that. You were nervous, things were just falling out of your mouth now.

"Oh no I understand it's just your comedic timing is quite poor. You may want to work on that" Gaster turns his head back to the counter, writing or scribbling something down in his notebook.

You open your mouth to speak but quickly shut it as Gaster turns back, notebook in hand, eyes still focused on his writing. "This test does not tell me if you're with child, that's something I can sense through your soul as your mate" he glances up at you, "which you're not, obviously. Though the soul bond does secrete a chemical into your blood stream that can compels you to want to copulate with your mate which... Explains earlier"

"Interesting" that explanation actually brought you some relief, that it wasn't just you losing any sense of decency you once had. It was chemicals that compelled Gaster to fuck you. It was the chemicals that compelled you moan back. It was the chemicals that were making you want to open your legs to him right now.  
  
Yes, the chemicals.

"Anyway what this test shows me is simply..." the end of your listening starts as Gaster switches into scientist mode, explaining the exact chemical compounds that make your blood, witch blood, different from regular human blood. You watch as Gaster draws out a confusing cell structure you almost recognize from grade 9 science class. He circles certain parts, while crossing out others and underlining other parts with such vigor the paper rips. You have no idea what he's saying to you. Instead you notice on the passion in his eyes, the hum of his soul against yours as he talks about different chemicals, the eagerness in his voice to explain this to you. However his long winded explanation could have cut down to single sentence;

"This test has proven beyond any trace of doubt that you are, in fact, a witch" Gaster's final sentence brings you back to reality. Eyes half closed, mouth hanging open ever so slightly you nod as if you've understood ever word that poured from his mouth.

"It's also confirmed my suspicion that you've been cursed" Gaster explains further, looking back over his notes..

That you understand. You don't even have time to let the news of "you're a witch" settle in your mind.

"Excuse me what? Cursed?" You ask, leaning forward to peek at Gaster's note, as if you could read his inscrutable writing. It didn't even look English.

"You saw the golden haze around your soul, yes? I saw and foolishly pushed it out of my mind in a fit of lust, enchanted by your feminine wiles, I should have taken you down here right away but, uh..." Gaster hums, studying as your look or concern grew to that of a look of amusement. He had just given you more ammunition.

"Oh my feminine wiles? Like my sensuality? Because I am so very... sensual?" You shimmy your exposed shoulder at the doctor. Your off the shoulder T-shirt was certainly the height of sexually charged clothing. A large hand on your shoulder halts your teasing.

"For the love of Christ stop"

\--

Gaster takes pity on you and allows you to scamper up the stairs back into his well lit office before turning off the light and ascending the stairs himself. It's late, drawing close to midnight.

You stare into the cityscape from the balcony off Gaster's bedroom. Your hands clutching the railing, hips tilted up. A tender ache sits in the pit of your stomach from earlier. A cool breeze licks your cheeks a you search for your apartment among the building though you know you won't find it. Your mother sits at the forefront of your mind. You were cruel to leave without saying goodbye, you realize that now, despite how irrational you felt she was acting. Was she okay? Did she eat dinner this evening? Did she have enough cigarettes to survive the week? What was she doing right now? You would call, but you knew she was likely already asleep, wrist deep in a box of crackers, the flickering of the TV illuminating her resting form.

Gaster's hand rests on your shoulder as you gaze into the night, the occasional chirp of a bird and the distant humming of the city interrupting your train of thought of what Gaster revealed to you while in the lab.

Gaster explained while you were still down in the lab, face pressed into the stainless steel table, the tips of your toes barely touching the cold cement floor as he forced his cock deep within you, that the golden haze surrounding your soul was a curse, a very powerful curse. As he griped your hips and forced himself in and out of you desperately, he explained that the flecks of gold floating in your blood were a physical manifestation of the curse. As you forced your hips back, your own arousal dripping down your thighs as you moan his name aloud, he spoke of how the curse certainly must have come from another witch, before reaching down around your hip to toy at your clit, pressing hard and fast, forcing you to tilt your hips, changing the angle of his thrusts. Your scream as your walls clamp down around him drowns out anything he was trying to tell you about what the curse was actually doing to you, though it was likely only gibberish as he continued to thrust into you, holding your hips steady and your ass flush against his body. Your hot breath fogged the steel table as you pant, feeling his cock twitch, hearing him growl your name one, twice, and finally a loud groan as he reached his apex, spilling his seed within you.

Gaster's hand leaves your shoulder and your soul tugs at you to follow him back into the house. Silently you obey, shutting the glass door behind you, stripping yourself of your shorts, sticky with Gaster's essence that continued to seep from between your folds. You found yourself curiously less disgusted with the feeling than you had the first time. The bruises on your hips sing in pain as your bones press on the skin from each step as you approach Gaster. He doesn't even have to beckon you, your souls reaching for each other is enough to draw you toward him.

You crawl into the bed and into his arms, slipping under the blankets, adjusting yourself so your head rests on his broad chest, your arm wrapped around his waist. An arms wraps around you. The direct contact with his skin warms your flesh, as you allow your eyes to slowly close.  
  
Why did you decide to get into his bed? Why hadn't he redirected you to the guest room? It doesn't matter.  
  
You're both quiet, the beating of your hearts almost in sync. When a question pops into your mind.

"...what does the W.D. in your name stand for" you whisper.

"...Wing Dings"

"...can I keep calling you Gaster"

"Please"

The room falls silent once more. Your heart aches for you to keep speaking but your determination to stay awake falters.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gaster explains while doing the thing to you that you were cursed, its a very powerful curse and was certainly put on you by another witch. He tries to explain what exactly it's doing to you but is /distracted/.
> 
> \--
> 
> Of course he would explain stuff like that to you in the middle of doing it, what a fucking nerd.


	8. R U N / C H A S E

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It finally hits you that you're not human. Maybe it hits everyone around you too.  
> The cleaning ladies are weird.

_Tuesday, September 4th 1979_  
  
2:56 AM  
  
You're pulled out of a dream you don't remember having. Your heart and soul rapidly beat in unison, something they had not done since your father passed, since you had to wait for your mother in the hospital when she had her hysterectomy, since you had to withdraw your application to college, since you had to call the police on your father when he wouldn't stop holding a knife to your mother's throat- oops no sorry, that last one didn't actually happen.  
  
The room is cast in shadows. The sun hasn't even thought of coming up, yet here you are wide awake sitting alone in the dark while your mate, your accidental mate, silently sleeps beside you. You're still in Gaster's room. He clearly made no effort to move you to the guest room, maybe you were to sleep here now for the rest of the week. Beside your... mate. In his bed, in his room, in his house, at the end of a cul-de-sac inside a gated community. Sounds kind of like an oxymoron since gated communities were meant to keep monsters out.  
  
Monsters like you.  
  
Except maybe not like you? The book Lisa gave you mentioned something about half-breeds, but you had left the book at your apartment so you couldn't refresh your mind. If you're really a witch, then you're a half breed. Is that why you got along better with monsters? Is that why your mother picked the apartment building filled with monsters? Is that why you have actually never had sex with a human? Gaster's breathing, slow and calming, A single shred of muted light seeps in through a crack in the curtains, illuminating his collar bone as if instructing you where to place your head. You feel a strong desire to wake him up to ask more questions, but the desire to let him rest is stronger.  
  
For the first time since being told, the realization sinks in that you're a witch.  
  
You. Are. A. Witch.  
  
But what does it mean, really? You don't look like what you thought a witch would look like; your skin isn't green, your nose isn't a hooked monstrosity with a wart on the end, you may even be allergic to cats. A single tear from deep within you trickles down your cheek as you pull your eyes away from your sleeping mate. You bury your face in your hands. Tears seep through your fingers and fall to the blanket below. Does this change everything? Does it change nothing?  
  
What does this mean.  
  
\--  
  
9:37 AM  
  
He had not been gentle with you.  
  
...  
  
Okay maybe he had but it was your own fault that you are laying face down in the bed, wishing for death or at least a warm compress on your abdomen. If what Gaster said about the physical soul bond compelling mates to, well, mate then surely it wasn't your fault that a customary good morning snowballed into your face being buried in his lap before being buried into the mattress. Gaster grumbled about being late for work but he never once slowed his hips or loosened his grasp on yours.  
  
It was bad enough you could still taste his magic on your tongue but your insides feel as if they've been stabbed repeatedly. You got out of the bed briefly to dig through the bathroom for anything to quell the cramps and found not a lot of anything. A few towels, a bar of soap, toothpaste, not much else. How in the hell were you supposed to work when all you wanted lay prone in bed until the pain ceased or you died, whichever came first. Although, as much as you complain the pain is tolerable, even a bit enjoyable.  
  
The real pain was in your heart, or maybe your soul. You honestly couldn't tell which one was in the most pain from the news that you are a witch. Does your mother know? Did she know and hide it from you? You have so many questions for her.  
  
At least Gaster had the good sense to spend a few minutes petting your hair and telling you things will be okay as lovers and forced mates often do. He said he'd bring you a few books back from the library that might help you in light of your recent discovery, and he'd be more than willing to run further tests to determine what could be done about this curse. He wasn’t sure what exactly it was doing to you, but he'll be damned if he can't figure it out. Excellent, more tests. One awkward kiss, seemingly out of pity, and you were left to your own devices.  
  
Kissing Gaster felt wrong. Not to say it didn't feel lovely, but your heart was not in the equation. You don't love him, how could you, you've know him for slightly more than a week. It seems a week is more than enough time for your soul to decide this is your mate. Maybe it was predetermined. The two of your had nothing in common as far as you could tell and almost everything you knew about him you heard second-hand from Lisa. You're not sure exactly what he teaches at the university, or what kind of Doctor he is, or maybe he's qualified to be several different kinds. How old is he? Where did he come from? What's a Lich anyway?  
  
All you really knew was he has a weird lab under his house, likes telling inappropriate jokes and has a big dick. You smile, ever so slightly into the bed.  
  
However you know you have to break the soul bond. There's no way either of you could be happy like this. You're something to be studied, you're hemming his pants and you let him fuck you. He's just a well paying job. You are surprised he didn't immediately suggest breaking the soul bond. Even if what the book said was true, that most end in death, even if you died it would hardly be an inconvenience to him, right?  
  
At least Lisa was right in her hypothesis and you certainly owe her a phone call to spill some details once you pull yourself away from the bed.  
  
You roll over and sit up, bringing your knees to your chest. Gaster had opened the curtains before he left, letting the morning light in to great you. He left while it is was still relatively dark. The remains from earlier had dried to your thighs and worse yet were still wet within you. You know you should get up and shower, wash his seed off you, but you don't. You don't want to. You lay back down into the comforting embrace of the mattress, letting the sheet envelope you as you sink. Your eyes flutter shut, the scent of your accidental mate surrounding you like an aura. Your fingers find their way to the odd stain on your sternum. It's radiating heat, The magic within licks at your fingers, like petting soft cotton. A vision of you and your mate laying in this very bed enters your thought, but you choose not to chase it away. He kisses your forehead, whispering something to you. You don't care what it is. His heat, his touch, his love are only what you desire. Your fingers lace, the kisses trace down your cheek, along your jaw, before finally finding your lips. An audible sigh escapes you in both the vision and in reality.  
  
You're silent for a few blissful moments, even your cramps seem to be dissipating.  
  
VRRRRROOOOOOoo  
  
Your eyes shoot open back into reality. Was that a vacuum?  
  
You roll out of bed quite literally, taking the sheet with you to wrap around your nude body. You crack the double doors open and peek through. There was someone vacuuming in the foyer, their back turned to you. Another human? No no there were no humans here. The arm was absolutely covered in fur, maybe a dog monster?  
  
“Shit” you quickly duck back in. Of course he has someone clean his house, that's why it's so pristine.  
  
You lock the doors just as the vacuum dies. Faint chattering from downstairs tells you there must be more than one person down there. Giggles fill the air before the vacuum springs back to life.  
  
You're trapped.  
  
\--  
  
A few times the handle on the double doors jiggled, each time you cringe. Standing half nude in Gaster's bedroom is not a way you would like to meet new people, especially if the people are dog monsters. They could probably already smell him on you, maybe in you. That isn't a conversation you feel like having.  
  
A light tapping breaks the silence. “Ma'am can you please unlock the door? We can't leave until the entire house is done” a voice calls from the other side. You were pulling items from Gaster's closet to work on when the voice interrupts. They obviously know you're in there, if not by your smell then by the fact that you weren't exactly quiet. Maybe you wanted them to know you are here.  
  
“Sorry uh, one sec” you call back frantically checking around for your shorts. You had not bothered to put them back on after stepping out of them the night before.  
  
You slip into your shorts having found them partially under the bed for some reason and scamper to unlock the door. Your soul is silent but your heart is beating from excitement or worry, not sure which. You peek through the door and see two large pairs of yellow eyes staring back at you. Dog monsters. Maybe sisters from how similar they look. They are tall, bipedal, and really very beautiful. Long white fur hands off them like silk.  
  
“You must be (Y/N)” the taller one grins at you. She's wearing a faded band shirt.  
  
“Dr. Gaster's told us all about you” the other adds, wearing the exact same shirt.  
  
They brush past you giggling as they go.  
  
“I told you it was a human” one says to the other in a low tone, toting the vacuum cleaner behind her.  
  
“I wasn't arguing I was just saying he has a type” the other snaps. They carry on their conversation while they tidy the bedroom as if you're not there. You're not sure if you should correct them, but maybe going around telling people you're a half-breed is a poor choice. You'd have to consult with Lisa.  
  
You could have left, but you continue to rummage through the closet. As much as you didn't want to admit, mentioning that Gaster had a type and you were of that type, made you feel a bit special. On the flip side mentioning that Gaster had a type made your soul vibrate with jealousy. Just how many others of the same type had he brought home that the cleaning ladies could pick out what Gaster liked in his sex partners? Maybe one of them would say something more on the topic.  
  
As they go about tidying the room you're pretty impressed at their style. One strips the sheets off the bed while the other puts down a fresh set. One sprays the doors to the balcony and the other wipes them dry. One mans the vacuum head while the other carries the body to avoid leaving lines in the rug. Very efficient, Gaster must have hired them for that reason.  
  
“Hey, (Y/N)” they both approach you while you're shoulder deep trying to save a white button down from the void that is the back of the closet.  
  
“Uh... y-yeah?” You ask, looking over your shoulder at the two dog monsters.  
  
“Dr. Gaster said you were staying in the guest bedroom, but it didn't look like anyone slept there” well obviously. They're baiting you, maybe trying to shame you. Whatever. As a teenage this type of thing would have set you off, but as an adult slowly but surely nearing your late 20s this was something that rolled off your back.  
  
“Oh uh, yeah I ended up sleeping in here with _Gaster_ ” you reply, turning back to focus on what you were doing. You put the emphasis on his name, without his title as he asked you to. Were you rubbing it in their faces? Yes. Was it childish? Also yes.  
  
The dog monsters turn their backs to you to converse between themselves before turning back to you. You try to pay them no mind.  
  
“Run thinks you should be careful” one of the dog monsters says matter-of-factly.  
  
“Why” you ask, not that you actually care. Run must be one of their names.  
  
“Because I think you're going to fall in love with Dr. Gaster and Dr. Gaster has no capacity for love” the other dog monster, Run, explains.  
  
“Oh yeah” you ask again, more as a statement than an actual question. You're not in love with him and you have no plans to fall in love with him. You're just soul bonded to him. Just inconvenienced until you can break the bond.  
  
“You're the not the first human Dr. Gaster has brought back to his home, let them get comfortable, made them feel special-” Run continues, but you interrupt.  
  
“I don't feel special. I don't know what you think you're doing, but you're wasting your time” you spit, turning around to face them. The sun shining in from behind the two dog monsters make them look ethereal. “I'm here to do a job just like you, that's it.” Your heart beat in your chest. Maybe you were getting a little riled up. Your soul burns with jealously and possessiveness, betraying your words.  
  
“Don't you want to know what happened to the other humans he brought back?” The other dog monster asks, hand on her hip.  
  
“Not really but my guess is he probably fucked them and kicked them out” you turn back around to continue pulling garments. You'd already wasted a day as you didn't have his measurements initially. You need to get started.  
  
The two dog monsters turn their backs to converse between them again before turning back Run speaks.  
  
“Chase likes you, I like you too”  
  
“I don't care”  
  
Run and Chase look at each other, then back to you. The scent of bleach seems to be radiating off them.  
  
“ _( Y / N )_ ” the say in unison, eyes wide, looking directly into your soul. Your soul forces you to turn to face them once more. You squint. Their eyes glow, hair raises around them as if a fan blew beneath them. The light shining in through the windows bends into their eyes.  
  
_“I q u e n c h y o u r t h i r s t ; I b l e e d y o u d r y”_  
  
What.  
  
You take a step back, almost into the closet. What is this, what the fuck is going on. Your soul was pulling back into the closet but refuses to let you pull your eyes away. The dog monsters take a step forward in unison. A flash of Gaster's hand appears in your mind, it laces with your fingers before quickly retreating.  
  
_“H e l p  y o u  m a k e  y o u r  b e d ; c o m e  u n d o n e”_ they continue, voices garbling as if there were static interference. The air around you vibrating, it feels otherworldly. They're emitting the bleach smell even stronger, your eyes burn, your nostrils sting. You shouldn't be witnessing this.  
  
“ _I d e n t i f y i n g  m a r k s ; o u r  h i s t o r y  p i c k e d  o u t  i n  s t a r s_ ”  
  
As fast as it happened, the air drops, the sisters' hair falls limp once more, the smell of bleach dissipates into the air.. You're left staring at them. They stare back into you, as if nothing had happened.  
  
“Oh” Run looks to Chase, then to you. A look of concern on her face. They must be aware it happens, but not as it happens.  
  
“Haha, that thing happened” Chase laughs. A hard laugh, a bit too loud, too quickly her eyes left wide. She turns to retrieve the vacuum. Run approaches you, placing a hand on yours. For being completely covered in fur her hands are freezing. You're frozen pressed against the clothing hanging in the closet.  
  
“....(Y/N)” Run whispers. A small trickle of blood seeps out of Run's nose, you see her shiver. "I... we'll see you in a few days" she blurts before chasing after her sister who had already run out of the room.   
  
Feeling equal parts terrified and confused you're not sure what to do. You look down at your hand, there's a note. When did that get there?  
  
“ _R U N / C H A S E"_

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bitches am I right
> 
> If you want to see some of the aesthetic I've picked out for this story, as well as any notes and extras or even if you just wanted to drop me a line you can find me at pretty-wiccan-thing.tumblr.com which is dedicated to this story and maybe others if I write others in the future (it also links to my main tumblr but that's just a mismash of random shit)
> 
> Man this was randomly kind of long. I've been holding onto Run and Chase for what feels like weeks, I kinda feel like it was shoehorned in but. They cool, they serve a purpose other than being weird af I promise.


	9. AMBIDEXTROUS (*)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lisa is very upset at you for reasons you can't control.  
> You keep not calling your mother.  
> Gaster is subject to the female gaze.  
> There's some information about the visions and some... tea. Definitely some tea.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *back flips out of the void* Heres your daddy kink warning *finger guns*

_Tuesday, September 4 th 1979_  
  
4:36pm  
  
“That's... wow” Lisa sighs into the phone. You found a phone next to one of the staircases just off the foyer, opposite from a large fern. There was even a bench for you to sit upon, how convenient!  
  
“Yeah” you shift to make yourself comfortable, feeling a pinch begin to form in your back from sitting in the same position for so long. You work on stitching together a curious tear in one of the many lab coats. The phone is pinched between your shoulder and face as you converse with Lisa. You tried calling your mother first... no answer. Maybe she's visiting with Mrs. Oppel as she often does. You'd try again later.  
  
You told Lisa everything.  
  
Okay, almost everything. You withhold the fact that you're a witch, figuring it may be better to ask Gaster before giving it to Lisa to spreading it around town like a disease. You told her about the odd stain, the soul bond, the visions you saw, the spooky lab under the house, Run and Chase, the note, the weird key, the seemingly constant sex since you've arrived. You even told her how you ate soup directly out of a can while Gaster kept insisting you at least heat it up. A few minutes into your description of the soup Lisa had to cut you off. Your love for soup is unrivaled, except maybe by your love of the doctor.  
  
Wait no. You tap your chest, you're not in love. That's silly.  
  
“Honestly (Y/N) I have no words” the bitterness in Lisa's voice is strong. She sighs once more and you hear a page turning. She must be doing some research for her thesis. Your needle weaves in and out of the stiff white fabric, pulling the two jagged edges together. The tear happened mostly over another seam so you are able to make it look almost brand new, save for a few peculiar black stains on the cuffs of the sleeves.  
  
“It's not like I wanted this or made this happen, I just wanted ten grand” you assure her “and I got a lot of good work done on the dress yesterday”  
  
“No I mean, like... why you? How come you of all people?”  
  
“Lisa, it's weird. I wouldn't wish this on my worst enemy. I feel like... my destiny was taken away from me for no fucking reasons and the only way to take control is to... well, purge him out of my soul and I don't know how I would even, like... go about doing that.” saying it aloud makes your heart beat a little quicker.  
  
The line is silent. Lisa makes soft huffing noises on the other end. Is she crying?  
  
“You don't deserve him (Y/N)” the bitterness in her voice is over shadowed by the hurt coating her words.  
  
There had been many a late night the two of you spent talking and drinking with your group of friends. The other friends in your group, the ones who had actually met him, couldn't separate Gaster from his position of authority, but Lisa could.  
  
You recall how she marched into his office, demanded he choose her for the TA position in one of his first year lectures, providing letters of reference from former employers, her grades dating back to the start of her academic career, and a personal essay that made reference to his projects. When he said no with not even so much as lifting his head from his work, Lisa had apparently climbed onto his desk, grabbed him by the lapels of his lab coat and forced him to look at her.“I fought to get where I am, Dr. I stepped on the dreams of others, I've burnt bridges, I've done things to people I can't really ever forgive myself for, all for the chance to do something great, and I will continue to do whatever it takes. This is merely a stop on my way to greatness. If you do not give this to me I will take it from you one way or another”. Lisa told you he thought for a moment, staring deep into her dark brown eyes before relenting, telling her “Well, I do enjoy a feisty human” From there, Lisa and Gaster's relationship, their platonic relationship, began. Between the late nights discussing Gaster's projects in the campus bar, early mornings grading essays side by side in the library, Lisa may have accidentally fallen in love with the monster she so deeply admires, despite telling you her only love is the pursuit of knowledge.  
  
“Lisa...” you protest  
  
“YOU DONT' EVEN KNOW ANYTHING ABOUT HIM, OR HIS WORK. YOU DON'T EVEN CARE”  
  
That was certainly an uncharacteristic burst of emotion. Lisa loves this monster, you can feel her anger, and her jealousy. You came along, innocently enough to hem his pants, and wound up in a place she had only dreamed about late at night. Maybe telling her in detail about how Gaster took you on the floor of his bedroom less than a hour after he arrived back was in poor taste. After all he had told Lisa she, a human, was not his type. As far as she knew you were also a human yet he was more than willing, almost desperate, to fuck you. He didn't even know you either.  
  
You're stunned, you cease threading the needle through the fabric.  
  
Lisa gasps, realizing she had let her emotions get the best of her.“...I.... (Y/N), I have to go” Lisa chokes out before the line connecting you two dies. She hung up.  
  
You let the phone drop to the floor, the lab coat covering your legs. She doesn't understand, but she's right. You don't know anything about Gaster; you didn't even know what the initials in his name stood for until after your were dripping his seed from between your legs. You can easily see how someone who's shown unrelenting dedication to his work only to be rejected would be jealous, even angry with you.  
  
You want to shake her, make her understand this isn't something you want rationally. Maybe you should have told her you are a witch?  
  
The more you think about breaking the soul bond the more you realize it's a death sentence. You don't know what you're doing, you don't know how to perform a soul purge, let alone even summon the power to pull your own soul from your chest. And further more didn't the book say both parties had to be receptive to the soul break? What if Gaster didn't want to break the soul bond for one reason or another? Maybe you're more trapped than you think.  
  
The silence is cut when the receiver buzzes alive with the dial tone, reminding you to try your mother again. You still haven't spoken since Monday morning.  
  
If you're a witch, maybe you can tap into your powers if you focus hard enough. You extend a hand. The vision you see in your head shows the phone rising from the floor and into your hand in an effortless, fluid motion coated in a flurry of silky white magic. Narrowing your eyes you focus. You see the end result. You feel the end result. The end result is in your grasp.  
  
Back in reality you're merely sitting on the bench with your hand outstretched like an idiot.  
  
You physically bend to pick up the receiver, mildly defeated. You shift to dial your number on the phone. Four digits in and the sound of the front door opening makes your soul jump, and tug at you.  
  
Simultaneously you glance up and hang the phone back on the cradle. You promise yourself you'll try again later as you hold the lab coat to your chest and run to meet the doctor.  
  
You got a lot done before Gaster returned home. He was especially pleased that you fixed up the lab coat. Why, with his wealth, he didn't just replace the torn coat was beyond you, but as he postulated; 'One can never have too many lab coats'. He then handed you his overcoat. Weirdly enough, your soul compelled you to hang it for him before he could ask you. No no it's okay you were just standing nearest to the closet.  
  
\--  
  
You tap on the office door, arms full of various shirts. You focused mainly on tops today, leaving the pants for the rest of the week. Shirts were easy, pants were a bit fussier. Both needed to be tried on before marking them as complete.  
  
The door creeks open as Gaster remains seated at his desk, almost paying you no mind.  
  
“How did yo-” a disembodied hand floats by you to retrieve a shirt you dropped in the foyer. It places the shirt back on the pile before dissipating into the air. You're too stunned to move. What in the hell was this now.  
  
“It's only magic, my pet” Gaster notices your silence. He raises a real hand and summons another false hand to demonstrate before waving the false hand away. Your brows narrow. Did he just give you a pet name?  
  
“Oh” you proceed into the office, dropping the clothing on the sofa immediately to your left.  
  
“What's that” Gaster asks, eyes glued to whatever he was writing. Oh, he's left handed.  
  
“Well, this is everything I worked on today”  
  
“why did you bring them into my office?”  
  
“To try them on”  
  
Gaster sighs, resting his pen down on the desk “you want me to try these on right now?”  
  
“...yeah”  
  
Gaster leans back into the leather and oak chair, staring intensely at you. He tents his fingers in front of his chest as his knees lazily drift apart. An odd shadow, an almost perfect circle, casts against his chest as the light passes through his empty palms. He looks back to his work, a pile of papers, before looking back to you.  
  
“Very well”  
  
With wide eyes you watch Gaster rise to his feet. His height dominates above your own, leaving you feeling oddly weak. He drops his arms back to let the lab coat fall into his chair, before pulling his shirt up over his head and setting it on the chair.  
  
Oh. Oh dear.  
  
You saw his chest briefly when he showed you the odd stain on his sternum before he fucked you the first time. You'd been so confused and horny you didn't really pay any mind to his top half.  
  
Stark white and standing directly in front of you, you had no choice but to pay attention.  
  
He tosses his head back to crack his neck. His broad shoulders seem to lead the eye down to his collar bones, protruding under his white, vaguely translucent skin. A map of blue veins under his skin lead your eye to the odd stain, grey and... is it changing shape? Did it change shape since you've seen it last? You haven't checked your own in a bit maybe you should. Below the odd stain, a firm stomach with a valley of ever so slight abs, probably not because he actually worked out, but maybe he was a mesomorph? Or perhaps Liches were just naturally built in such a way?  
  
Your eye continues to climb down his body, nearing the edge of his belt, before your line of sight is met with a large out stretched hand.  
  
“(Y/N)”  
  
You eyes shoot up to his. You keep your eyes connected as you lean down, picking up one of the shirts to slowly place into his hand.  
  
And it begins.  
  
\--  
  
You sit cross legged on the leather sofa across from Gaster's desk. Watching with rapt attention as he puts on each shirt, stands slump shouldered looking for your approval.  
  
“No no, stand up straight. Like you're... you're lecturing. Lecture to me some... things” you declare, sitting up straight.  
  
Gaster huffs, straightening his back, dropping his shoulders down. He cracks his neck once more. The white button up fits him the best so far. It was a shame he seemed to prefer turtle necks to button ups. He's fidgeting with the sleeves, pushing them up his forearms carelessly.  
  
“Ah ah, no no hang on” you jump to your feet and scurry over to your statuesque mate. You roll the sleeve back down over his solid forearm. Tensing the fabric you try to pull the wrinkles out as best you can before proceeding to roll about two widths of the cuff up, then rolling the bottom up to meet the top, struggling to push the fabric up over Gaster's forearm. His hand covers your own, as he slowly pushes the fold up into the bend of his elbow.  
  
“It... looks really good on you” you smile, craning your neck back to look up at him. Gaster unbuttons the first few buttons at the neck, smiling back down at you  
  
“You're certainly very talented, Ms. Blackwater was too modest about your abilities” he proclaims, hands slowly unbuttoning his shirt. You can feel your face becoming flushed with a pink tint.  
  
“I... ye...thank you, D-... Gaster” you let slip, momentarily forgetting that yes, he gave you permission to simply call him Gaster. Something that surely did not go unnoticed, based on the ever so slight brow raise from Gaster.  
  
\--  
  
You're back, sitting on the leather sofa, needle threading in and out of a seam of a shirt you overshot in the waist. You look up to him, he's back in his turtle neck, writing on something. You cross one leg over the other, continuing to work silently. Gaster looks up at you, a soft sigh escapes him.  
  
“That's exactly where I saw you the first time the visions happened for me” he remarks, lacing his fingers together.  
  
Your eyes flutter up at him, before looking back down to your work “oh yeah?”  
  
“Same position, though I believe you were wearing a dress”  
  
“A dress?”  
  
“You were holding a baby”  
  
Now it was weird.“  
  
"Yeah, that'll be the day” you scoff. Babies are fucking stupid. You had no desire to have one, you never did. Even as a little girl you were much more interested in seeing how far you could kick your baby dolls. Your mother tried time and time again to show you how to wrap them in receiving blankets, but you always just wandered off to find something else to do.  
  
Gaster rises to his feet once more, approaching you with long strides. A large hand rests on your shoulder. You lift your head, face to face with your mate. He studies your face, tracing a finger along your cheek.  
  
“Come with me, my pet”  
  
\--  
  
Gaster really needs to stop being so vague. Initially you thought he was going to take you into his lab to show you some magical vision of a future where you have like 8 babies and then fuck you into the stainless steel table again. No no, he just brought you to the dining room and prepared tea. Black. He seemed almost offended when you asked for sugar.  
  
He sits at the head of the table, you take a seat to his left. He lifts the tea cup to his mouth with his right hand. Oh, maybe he isn't left handed after all.  
  
“The visions I see, you see them too I presume? Or at least a version of them. Often... romantic, pleasurable, sexual...?” He asks, resting his right elbow on the table, left hand flat against the polished wood.  
  
You nod. “Yeah I've... seen some stuff” you think back to the things you saw, especially when you first came to his home. “W... why are we seeing these things?”  
  
“Your soul is bringing you these visions...” Gaster takes in a deep breath, exhaling slowly. “Well... I'm not sure why. It's not uncommon for certain types of monsters to catch visions of alternate time lines in times of stress... whenever they're separated from their mate seems to be the most agreed upon theory but it isn't always true.”  
  
“Time lines?” You interrupt. The confused look on your face tells Gaster he needs to keep explaining. “It's... as we understand time is linear and marches forward but. Pretend... our time line is like a piece of thread. It's straight forward, singular. A to B, B to C.”  
  
You nod slowly. You can understand that.  
  
“Now imagine a sheet with a one thousand thread count. Each thread is it's own time line, like our own. Different versions of us live in these time lines. Now imagine an infinitive number of these sheets, each sheet with a thousand time lines. That means everything that could ever happen, has happened, is happening, and will happen. That's why your soul is able to bring you so many different visions”  
  
You nod again, you were still on board.  
  
“Now... we soul bonded, fate bonded, correct?”  
  
You look side to side, before nodding yet again. Where was he going with this.  
  
“Our souls in all of the infinite time lines... we bonded there too”  
  
“...we... other time lines?” You ask, slumping back into the chair. You want to believe he's lying, you're itching, aching for him...  
  
...  
  
...to be lying, you mean.  
  
“It's still just a theory, like most things, but is it gaining popularity in the circles who study soul magic and bonding theory.” Gaster traces a finger around the rim of his tea cup, glancing ahead to the other end of the room, as if he was speaking to an invisible person.  
  
“What does this mean exactly? Could it just be a coincidence? Does that mean there are some time lines where we end up... not together?” you ask frantically.  
  
Gaster smirks, looking down into his tea. “It means we're meant to be. Some things in the time lines are .. predetermined... trying to change these things would be like trying to stop the tide from coming in with net. We're... it's set out in the stars, (Y/N)” his eyes follow the wainscoting along the wall until his eyes land on you.  
  
“We're meant to be, whether you like it or not in this time line, and every other time line to ever exist”  
  
\--  
  
_We're meant to be, whether you like it or not_  
  
Maybe you were a lot more trapped than you thought. Predetermined? Writ in the stars? This all sounded very concrete. How are you supposed to break a predetermined soul bond? Is that something that could happen? You don't love him, he probably doesn't love you either, this IS just a cosmic screw up, but on a much larger scale. Did he just expect you to be complicit and let history take its course as it had, does, and will? Why shouldn't you want different? What if he's lying? Why shouldn't yo-  
  
“G-Gaster _ah~_ ” you moan, a deep thrust pulling your walls apart pulls you out of your thoughts. A rough grip on your arm, pressed firmly into your back pins you against the table. Your bare chest glides against the soft, polished wood, spilt tea allowing you to move without much friction. You can't think anymore.  
  
“Fuck, (Y/N)” Gaster spits, thrusting his length deep within you once more, grinding his sharp hips against your round ass.  
  
You arch your back, another moan escaping your lips. Gaster's other hand plants firmly on the back of your neck as he presses you further down into the table. Your tongue brushes against the table, the strong taste of Gaster's black tea mixed with the mild sweetness of your own, an apt allusion.  
  
“Ah... _ha~_...” Gaster pants behind you as he releases the arm behind your back. He pulls out completely from you, allowing your feet to touch the ground. “Lay back on the table” He instructs, or rather demands, running a hand down the length of his cock, slick with your sweetness.  
  
Unable to do much else, you obey. Your legs shake as you steady your hands flat against the table and jump up. Without much time to make yourself comfortable Gaster situations himself between your legs, his stiff cock rubbed against your soaked cunt.  
  
He leans down, taking your chin in his hand, pursing your lips. Is he going to kiss you? Now? Inches from your mouth, he exhales, you can practically taste the tea on his lips. In your hazed state of mind it's divine. Thank whatever immortal being is looking down upon you right now.  
  
“I want you...” he hisses into your ear, sending shivers down your spine, as his length runs over your clit “...to call me daddy” that was new. Was it the vision where he saw you holding his child? Was that something he was into? Again, it doesn't matter. You just want to continue to chase your orgasm, so of course you'll play along; you'll do anything to please him.  
  
You exhale, letting your eyes slowly close. You arch your back, aching for him to fill you again. The lips of your cunt allowing the tip of his cock to slip past ever so slightly.   
  
“D.... Daddy please” slightly unsure of yourself, you groan. Gaster's tongue glides over your breast, around your stiffened nipple. Your body aches for him. You feel his soul throb against yours; your compliance, even eagerness, to call him daddy so readily pleased him.  
  
“Da...ddy” you groan louder, a bit more confidence creeping into your voice. You try to repeat the word, but are cut off suddenly when his teeth clamp around the sensitive nub, a quick tongue flicks the tip.  
  
“Daddy what” he hisses through gritted teeth, causing his jaw to clench down on your nipple further. A wave of pleasure surges through your, starting in your shoulders and buzzing down your body. You could have cum from that had he been in you.  
  
“Daddy pleas...ease” you arch your back once more, pressing yourself against him, but he always pulls back before you can ease him back into you. Your hands find their way to his shoulders; thick, sinewy, his muscles glide under your finger tips as his hands run under your hips to readjust you. He tilts your hips up, releasing your nipple form between his teeth.  
  
“Daddy _WHAT_ ” Gaster demands, leaning back down to run his tongue along the odd stain on your sternum, cutting a trail through the semi-dried tea on your skin, “nothing will happen if you don't tell Daddy what you want”  
  
“Please fuck me...” you whimper, pausing briefly to brace yourself for what was to come, “ _Daddy_ ” you finish, relenting to his demands. Gaster, pleased with your submission guides his tongue over the odd stain on your chest yet again. A tingle of pleasure, then another, then another, radiates out from your sternum as you arch your back to press harder. Hell, he could remain there and you would be satisfied. But he doesn't, ever the impatient monster, he continues up between your breasts, over your collar bone, and along your jaw bone to your ear.  
  
“As you wish, my pet” his murmurs into your ear. The magic escaping his lips feels like static shocks against your neck. He's sloppy with this magic in this state. Maybe all monsters are.  
  
A loud moan sprints past your parted lips as Gaster sinks himself within you, the alternating coolness of your own wetness coating his cock, and the warmth of his blood throbbing from within causes your walls to convulse. Your soaked folds offer very little resistance as he presses and fills you to the hilt.  
  
Your nails sink into his leathery flesh as he resumes a quick rhythm of a shallow pull and a hard thrust, your own hips roll to meet his upon every thrust, pressing into the spot that makes you quiver. Again, and again, and again. His lips press firmly against your neck, a gentle nip at your skin here and there.  
  
Then, a not so gentle nip as his teeth dig into your flesh. He holds your flesh in your mouth for a moment, then another. Your eyes slam shut, your lower half trembling.  
  
“ _DADDY”_ You cry. The pressure in the deepest pit of your becoming too much. You're too wet, too weak, too drunk on the pheromones, the chemicals, whatever else was causing you to buck your hips into his as Gaster lands both of his hands on either of your hips pulling your ass clean off the table and into him. You're effectively pinned, his thrusts deep, short, and hard.  
  
“Fuck, fuck, fuCK (Y/N)” Gaster forces his cock further than you though was possible, his chest rising and falling in quick succession, along with your own. A raspy cry escapes him as you feel him cum within you. His thrusts are sloppy as he chants your name like a hymn.  
  
“(Y/N), (Y/N), (Y/N)” each thrust he repeats your name. His soul begs you to release, aching to feel you flutter against him.  
  
A final thrust sends you over the edge as your cunt clamps down around Gaster's cock, still pressed to the very depths of you, pulsating against you. You want to scream, but nothing comes out, just garbled noises, a whimper as Gaster keeps his dicks tightly buried within you, bucking his hips to guide you through your orgasm.  
  
You struggle against the table, you want to sink lower, you want to buck your hips wildly, but Gaster still pins you to the table, forcing you to struggle against him.  
  
Everything feels tight, you feel full, you feel warm. You choke out a final, soft gasp “ _Daddy~_ ”  
  
Gaster's lips meet yours, you're taken aback as your eyes shoot open. Your heart races, your soul is vibrating with joy. Yes, he was inside you, yes you had called him daddy and asked him to fuck you, yes your souls bonded, yes your very soul was crying out for this, this kiss, to happen. But his lips pressed into yours post coitus was making your heart scream, you want to leave but your soul, and Gaster's hips, keep you firmly planted.  
  
Your vision is obstructed by an onslaught of tears brought on by... oh, so many things you felt in every part of your being.  
  
\--  
  
Once more, you find yourself in the Lich's bed. Wide awake in abject darkness, not even the light of the moon peeking through the curtains. You're full of questions, confusion, and his seed. At least he didn't try take any of your blood again. Dried tears stain your face.  
  
Gaster sleeps soundly beside you. What time was it? Had you fall asleep after you both managed to crawl your way upstairs and into bed?  
  
Your mind, against you will and maybe better judgement, crawls back to your mother. You still hadn't called her. Should you try now? Sure it was late, but maybe it would catch her off gaurd?  
  
Careful not to wake your mate, you throw your legs over the side of the bed and slide out. The crisp coolness of the darkened room juxtaposed against the warmth of the bed sends a chill up your naked body.  
  
You brush past the bed and through the double doors, finding another telephone in the small sitting area near the doors to the master bedroom. You bring the receiver to your ear, and quickly dial one of the few numbers you know by heart. It rings once, twice, three times, four.  
  
No body.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WEW GASTER LAD WEW
> 
> uuuuhhh check out my tumblr if you wanna see some of the inspo I've gathered for this fic, some extras, some drabbles (except it's just one right now but maybe more???), and me complaining about going to work. You can also send me asks and shit about what you like/didn't like in the story and why that makes you like/hate me personally! How fun for you!  
> http://pretty-wiccan-thing.tumblr.com/
> 
> I gotta go back and fix the dates I've been very inconsistent sorry
> 
> ALSO there are some things coming up (and by coming up I mean in like 10-15 chapters) I can't decide if Gaster is someone who suppresses his feelings because he thinks they're a point of weakness, or is like... on board with it. It's gonna really affect the tone of the story once it happens but I can't decide @_@ well I'll just get there when I get there
> 
> AH BEFORE YOU ASK NO this is not ending with the reader pregnant, I realize I keep accidentally alluding to it, but I'm not about that... in this arc *eyes emoji x6*


	10. INFORMATION II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Your mother still won't pick up the phone  
> Gaster might be a pimp.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another information-type chapter!  
> This is going to be broken up into a few chapters (at least 2 as it stands) since the reader will mostly be reading and learning how meta.  
> The cool thing about that is the next chapter should be coming very soon, as this one is very short.

_Wednesday, September 5_ _th_ _1979_  
  
r _ing... ring... ring..._  
“You have reached Cora and (Y/N) (Y/LN) please leave a message after the tone BEE- _”_  
No answer. You try again  
  
_ring... ring... ring...._  
“You have reached Cora and (Y/N) (Y/LN) please leave a messa-”  
  
“Dammit” you hiss, slamming the receiver back down on the cradle. Where in the hell was your mother?  
  
“(Y/N), are you coming?”  
  
\--  
  
Gaster promised to bring you books about witches and soul bonds from the library but it must have slipped his mind. However, he mentioned he has a short lecture and fairly short office hours today so why don't you just come along with him and spend some time in the library. Just what you wanted to do with a literal pile of work you still had left sitting lazily on the sofa in the living room. But Gaster insisted staying inside the house for 3 days straight was madness.  
  
As he told you that, you got a flash of your father, his red flannel sleeves pushed up over his forearms. This happened before. _“(Y/N) come to work with me, you can't stay in your room for 3 days straight pouting, that's madness”_. That was the summer you broke up with your first boyfriend. You were 16, it was 1969. You never told him, and you hoped he never found out, that was the also the summer you lost your virginity in the back room of the hardware store to one of his assistant managers you think; A tall, enthusiastic skeleton, maybe a year older than you. You've since forgotten his name.  
  
You actually had not left the house since you arrived on Monday morning, choosing to instead throw yourself into your work, and well, other things. It seems the longer you stayed in the house the likelihood of weird stuff happening was pretty high. You didn't want to have to sit in the house, experiencing visions of being fucked on the couch, or risk having Run and Chase come back to be weird at you. And maybe you could convince Gaster to swing by your apartment so you could check in on your mother as. Perhaps if she met Gaster she would feel a bit better about the whole 'you staying at his home to work on his wardrobe' thing.  
  
“This.... is your car?”  
  
“Is there an issue?”  
  
“No it's just...”  
  
It was just Gaster drove possibly the most expensive looking car you've ever laid eyes on. You don't know much about vehicles, but the glossy black exterior coupled with a white leather interior and insignia you recognized as the Lincoln brand told you he spent quite a bit more than a few grand on this. The suicide doors were a nice touch.  
  
“...are you a pimp?” You look to Gaster as he stands near the driver's side door. He looks at you, to his car, then back to you.  
  
"I... what? Just... get in” He instructs, before climbing in himself.  
  
\--  
  
At 7:45 in the morning the traffic is pretty awful. So many people and monsters anxious to get to work.  _Message in a bottle_ , a song you actually recognize spews out of the radio. A chill runs down your legs despite being covered in your straight legged jeans. You had originally wanted to pair these jeans with the blouse you wore the night Gaster ripped it open to see the odd stain on your chest, but you had forgotten to sew the buttons back on. You recycled your white off the shoulder tshirt, figuring if you tuck it in you'll look halfway presentable. Maybe someone will mistake you for student and not bother with you while you skulk around the library.  
  
Your eyes drift over to Gaster's hands, lazily gripping the steering wheel. There is a look of quiet contemplation on his face before speaking over Sting's wailing vocals.  
  
“It's a 1969 Lincoln Continental. One of my sons picked it out, if you were curious”  
  
“Oh you... have kids?” that was something you were certainly not prepared for you. You soul wiggled uncomfortably in your chest. Were you technically someone's step mom?  
  
“I... well, they're not exactly my sons. I did not procreate with a female but it is easier to call them my sons than refer to them as clones...” Gaster's eye catches yours as a grin crawls along his face “much less cold, don't you think?”  
  
“How did you...?” You begin to ask, when Gaster lays his right hand in your lap. Not in a sexual way, or a way that lovers would rest their hand on the other's lap. He wants you to look.  
  
You take his hand in yours, inspecting the hole closer as you had so wished you could have the other day. Very round, very scarred. You run your thumbs along the edge of the puncture the jagged edges. They feel rough against the soft pads of your thumbs “What is...”  
  
“Sans...” Gaster wiggled his fingers, to imply he took material from this hand to create that son. He looks back to the road, before softly smacking the steering wheel with his other hand “...and Papyrus”.  
  
You swallow uncomfortably. There was the name.  
  
“As you may or, well, may not know, traditionally Liches were like necromancers” He looks to you, a clear look of confusion with a bright red flush against your cheeks. “A necromancer being someone who practiced the dark arts, with a particular fondness of raising the dead to do their bidding.” Gaster begins. You shift uncomfortably, mind still centered on that name, _Papyrus_. You had moaned that name, _Papyrus,_ before. You had gripped his shoulders, wrapped your legs around his waist, and ridden him until he was a garbling mess. Your soul mate's kid. One of Gaster's sons. Papyrus was loud, kind of annoying, but the times you worked side by side with him in your father's store he was always eager to please. Fortunately, when you fucked him, he was just as eager.

"Liches are born with that inherent knowledge of raising the dead so... as you can imagine around the time of the dark ages a lot of them were massacred... and then again in the 1600s before monsters were banished underground...and...ah, I'm sorry (Y/N), this isn't a history lesson.”  
  
As if of no volition of his own, Gaster's fingers lace between yours. Your soul thumps at the gesture. You weren't expecting that in the slightest. His hand is warm, a stark contrast from the first time you had touched.  
  
“Anyway... my theory was if I can raise the dead, would I be able to create.... something from my own dead flesh?”  
  
Your soul thumps again. Gaster can raise the dead? That's some Stephen King shit. well, maybe. You've actually never read anything by Stephen King but you imagine there's probably something about reanimation.  
  
“My assistant at the time, Dr. Alphys, was against the whole idea so I was forced to remove the flesh and bone myself...”  
  
You can feel Gaster's soul vibrate with warmth within yourself. This was something he had enjoyed evidently.  
  
“It was a rather gruelling process I will admit and the results were.. less than satisfactory”  
  
“Less than satisfactory?” you repeat. Did he consider his sons a failure? That is awfully cold.  
  
Gaster sighs, dropping his head back slightly, while still keeping his eyes on the road. “I mean they did not grow into the beings I anticipated they would. Of course, they're similar to myself in more than a few ways, though they did take take the physical form of my skeleton, as I had postulated...” His hand tightens around yours.  
  
“Sans is intelligent but lacks the drive, and Papyrus has the enthusiasm to do well... but he is more concerned with glory and fame, rather than putting in the effort to get there. Nothing like how I hoped”  
  
You smile, looking down at Gaster's hand “I guess children never turn out how you think" you press back into the head rest, closing your eyes. If you hadn't downed almost an entire pot of coffee, to Gaster's horror, you could have fallen asleep. "My dad wanted me to be a boy. They were going to call me Gregory"

"You certainly don't look much like a Gregory" Gaster replies. You can hear the amusement in his voice. Unsure if it was okay, your index finger on your other hand hooks around the edge of the puncture in Gaster's hand. When he doesn't immediately take his hand back or ask you to remove it you figured it must be okay. 

You both sit quietly as Gaster drives and you lay prone beside him with only the pressure of the seatbelt keeping you propped up.

  
Gaster slips his hand out of yours to settle back on the steering wheel. The sudden movements of his hand and the dying of the engine you force yourself to open your tires eyes. Grandiose brick buildings seemingly from another time, the aura of both excitement and overwhelming fear stirred you back to life. You've arrived at the University.  
  
\--  
  
Gaster lead you through the absolute labyrinth of buildings, hallways, and doors, to lead you to the most magical place you've ever stepped foot; the university's library. The hall was massive, rows upon rows of desks. Various people sitting, dotted around the room. Some reading, a few writing, one girl was crying, a young dog monster sleeping with his head rested on a large book. Nevermind the seemingly endless selection of books filled to the brim with knowledge. Silence, with the occasional cough or whisper fills the room from top to bottom.  
  
“I'll come get you by 11:30. If you're done before that time, return to my office, floor 3, room 322 in the mechanical engineering building. It's not far, do you remember where it is?” Gaster walked you past that building, so you nod. Worst case you'll just ask someone.

"If you want to take anything home show them this" Gaster produces a card. Its his faculty ID. You werent sure the library people would like you take something with an ID that very clearly did not belong to you but it's a lovely gesture. You pocket the card.

“I hope you will find what you're aching to learn (Y/N)”  
  
“Thank you Gaster” as you smile, you feel his soul purr within yours. He returns the smile, wavering slowly toward you. One of his hands had found it's way to your lower back, when did that happen?  
  
“I... I'll see you soon, my pet” he whispers his face only a few inches away from yours. The scent of his clothing, the faint smell of coffee on his breath, and the comforting heat from his hand makes you wonder why you even want to break the soul bond, if only for a minute. Your soul pulls you towards him, before Gaster pulls away. He lets his hand drift longer on your back than maybe was necessary.  
  
You watch, long strides, his polished black shoes clicking against the floor, filling the hall with the sound of his authoritative stride. His black leather overcoat catches the wind ever so slightly. You continue to watch until his legs carry him out of the library and out of your vision.  
  
Your soul aches already, you so long to chase after him. But you have knowledge to gain and maybe a decison to make as well, and there's certainly no time like the present.

You turn to the wide open hall and find the determination to prove him wrong and take control of your destiny.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WHOA YOUR MOM HAS A NAME! GASTER HAS KIDS! READER GETS AROUND!
> 
> If you feel like checking out the aesthetics of this story, would like to read some drabbles and extras not posted here, or watch me talk nonsensically come visit my tumblr! pretty-wiccan-thing.tumblr.com I follow back (with my main, because I am not logging in and out to use each of my tumblrs as a main tumblr what am I a psychopath) and would love to hear your thoughts, related to the story or not.
> 
> Cheers~!


	11. INFORMATION III

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You do some of reading (and learn more about some in-universe rules)  
> Benjamin Bark says hi and is bad at guessing last names.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Important note: I wrote this while mildy drunk please feel extra free to point any errors out THANKS *back flips into eternity*

_Wednesday, September 5 th 1979_  
  
  
It took about 15 minutes for you to find anything related to monster sociology and history, but once you did the avenues for learning seemed endless. It took a further half hour for you to decide on a few books that didn't seem too intimidating.  
  
You make yourself comfortable at a table nearby and unpack your notebook and a pen. You feel very at home, like this is where you should have gone instead of opening a business. Maybe one day you'll come here as a student, but it's highly unlikely.  
  
The first book to be opened is simply titled “Soul Bonds” by C. Griswold. It seems rather old, the red dust jacket ripped and taped and ripped again. Pen marks litter the inside, most pages seem to to have passages underlined. Maybe this is a required reading for one of the classes, it seems well used. Reading through the table of contents your heart sinks, as it seems to mostly be a haphazard list of what soul bonds are and how they fit into society. Maybe this isn't the book for you.  
  
You cross your ankles under the chair and shake the one foot. Your heart jiggles inside your chest, twitchy from all the coffee you drank this morning. Maybe Gaster was right when he said drinking an entire pot of coffee was a bad choice. Your eyes dart through the chapter titles until you spy something called “Chapter 14: Disjuncture”, which has been crossed out and someone had wrote in “aka how to break a soul bond”.  
  
Well that was convenient.  
  
You flip to page 138 to see what awaits. It all seems very verbose and cumbersome. How were you going to read through this when you couldn't even sit still? Thankfully, someone had underlined a few seemingly important bits of information, probably the same person who wrote the new title.  
  
_“The breaking of a soul bond requires the two (2) parties to have clearly agreed upon the severance of their bond. This is especially important in bonds in which one (1) or more parties were unwilling initially (ie: fate bond).”_  
  
_“Though the process is taxing on the soul, there are also long term mental repercussions including depression, poor self-esteem, and thoughts of suicide to name a few. According to some research individuals who have gone through with breaking a soul bond are also more susceptible to serious illness, alcohol/drug abuse, and occasionally banishment from social circles. Another possibly more serious side affect is the damage to the actual soul. Should an individual be unwavering or even unsure of their soul break their soul can be become permanently damaged which can lead to soul collapse which almost always results in death.”_  
  
Well that's awfully grim. You scan the pages for another underlined passage.  
  
_“To successfully proceed with breaking a soul bond between two full blooded monst-”_  
  
No that won't be helpful, you're a half breed.  
  
_“Breaking a soul bond between a human and a full blooded monst-”_  
  
Well, not that either. You're not human.  
  
_“Breaking a soul bond between a half breed and a full blooded monster-”_  
  
Yes! That's it! This is the information you were looking for.  
  
_“Breaking a soul bond between a half breed and a full blooded monster is a much more delicate procedure...”_  
  
“Fuck my entire life” you huff, making a note in your notebook.  
  
_“...as half breeds are neither fully human nor fully monster it is difficult to extract the individual strands of each soul, especially if a period of time has passed in such that the two individuals have either consummated their relationship or-”_  
  
Ah, consummated, that was academic for doing the sex thing.  
  
_“-their soul markings have taken the same shape. Each process is a signal that the strands of the half breed's soul have accepted the full blooded monster's intruding soul as their own, thus it is much more difficult to separate the two back into their original hosts”_  
  
OH. You quickly take a peek down your shirt, you haven't even looked at the odd stain since the last time you were in the shower. You didn't even look for that long. Was it changing? You separate your breasts trying to see. It... looks different? Maybe slightly, but you're not sure. Were you running out of time? What does Gaster's mark looks like now?  
  
_“Of course these processes are often sped up in all such cases if the full blooded monster in the situation is a boss monster-”_  
  
Hold up, what's a boss monster? You stick a pencil in the book you're reading and open one of the other books you grabbed, “Monstrum Eytomology” there was no author you could clearly see, but that didn't matter as you were in a rush to flip to the index to find anything that might be related to the term boss monster.  
  
Actually, while you were in this book you could also look up Liches.  
  
Monstrum Eytomolgy offered a lot more than you expected. Evidently boss monster is another term for “ancient” monster as you quickly learned skimming through the pages and making notes.  
  
_“Ancient Monsters [Monstrum Antiqua] are monsters found throughout history, dating as far back as the earliest recorded historical records, about 3500 BC. These monsters are known for having great life spans, lasting hundreds if not thousands of years, and possessing powers traditionally refereed to as black magic ie raising of the dead, manipulation of humans, and other such magic thought to be evil by humans”_  
  
Gaster must be an ancient monster, this sounds way too much like what he had described in the car.  
  
“The term boss monster came into use around the 1600s during the monster massacre which was an undertaking by humans to rid the world of monsters. Ancient monsters often manipulated weaker monsters into doing their bidding ie engaging in battle with humans, hence the term”  
  
Oh...  
  
You continue skimming though the list of monsters until you spot it.  
  
_“Liches [monstrum inmortuae; vetus monstrum] are ancient monsters known for their abilities as a great spell casters both benevolent and malevolent, and their abilities to raise the dead. Such powers were considered to be unholy by humans as they mimicked necromancy, or the raising of the dead by humans for malevolent purposes”_  
  
There was more information but you stopped, switching back to the first book to read from where you left off with your new understanding of boss monsters.  
  
_“Of course this process is often sped up in all such cases if the full blooded monster in the situation is a boss monster as they are much more powerful than typical monsters. It is only through the will of the boss monster can the soul bond be broken. However there are very few recorded cases of boss monsters willingly breaking soul bonds for one reason or another. In some such studies it was found boss monsters were reluctant to break bonds due to the difficulty in finding another soul to bond with initially. In almost 100% of cases any monster, human, or half breed found to have been bonded with a boss monster were bonded through a fate bond”_  
  
Shit, could this bond even be broken then? Would Gaster not even _want_ to break the bond with you? You furiously scribble into your notebook. Your heart racing with worry and confusion. Maybe Gaster is different and would be willing to let you go if you told him you want to be in charge of your own destiny.  
  
But then again, he did say you were meant to be whether you liked it or not. Maybe he had been waiting for you for so many life times he had lost count. Maybe you really don't have control over your own destiny. Maybe you're meant to walk wherever Gaster leads you until you eventually dust.  
  
You drop your head back, laying limp in your seat, wishing the ceiling above you would cave and save you from asking your mate questions you feared the answers to. Tears begin to well in your eyes. You soul is curiously quiet, though it aches.  
  
What does this all mean?  
  
\--  
  
You stare at the ceiling until you lose track of the time. You could feel the occasional set of eyes upon you, but you must have looked like you were just stressed about an essay. Thankfully, no one approaches you.  
  
But maybe there was a way to take control again.  
  
The base of your palm rubs the tears out of your eyes before they have a chance to run down your cheeks. If nothing else, you had hope and the determination to not lay back and let time march on unobstructed.  
  
You reopen Monstrum Entomology and search the index for the term witch. There must be something, anything. To your delight, there is.  
  
_“Witches [Venefica/venefius; Dimidium-genus] are a half breed first mentioned in writing around 2000 BC. Witches are originally the off spring of a female Lich (monstrum inmortuae) and a male Human (hominum), but, as with all half breed types lasting longer than a single generation, witches have managed to become their own breed, though they are still consdiered half breeds as they share similar characteristics to both Liches and humans. This is mainly due to the fact that witches are able to reproduce with humans and sire another witch, though it is roughly a 50/50 chance to produce either another witch or another human.”_  
  
You freeze, unable to focus on the words in front of you. That means one of your parents are a witch. Maybe both. You needed to call your mother more than ever. Your hunger for answers won't allow you to remain sitting in the library any longer.  
  
In a haste you pack your belongings into your bag. You need to find a phone. Gaster's office probably has one, you're guessing. You pick up the two books you intend to take with you, leaving the others unopened and left on the table. There was no time to be a good library patron.  
  
You approach the desk. An older woman, and a dog monster sit behind the desk chatting. They're both wearing green sweater vests, as if they had planned. Or perhaps it was a uniform?  
  
“I'd like to sign these books out?” You ask, slowly approaching. You aren't sure what you need to be doing you've literally never checked a book out from the library. You hold the books close to your chest, making a mental note of where you put Gaster's faculty id.  
  
The dog monster holds his hand out, and you quickly pass the books to him. He leisurely opens to the back page, pulling two index cards out of a small pouch glued into the back of the books, marking the date on the left column “can I get your school id?” he asked looking up at you.  
  
“Oh well... I... I'm not actually a student here but I was told to show you this?” You question, fishing Gaster's faculty id out of your bag and handing it to the dog monster. Both he and the older woman look at the id, then back to you.  
  
“This isn't you” the older woman remarks, looking at your over her large glasses. She smells overwhelmingly of talcum powder.  
  
“Well, no. It's... Dr. Gaster. H-he told me to show this if I wanted to take something out”  
  
“And why did he give this to you?” The older woman asks again, taking the id card from the dog monster, tilting her head back and squinting. Probably trying to deduce if it's a fake or not. She's clearly very protective of the books.  
  
“I... well...uh” you stumble to find the words to explain yourself. Your feet invert inwards like a child caught in a lie.  
  
“Well?” She asks again, placing the card down on the desk, waiting for your answer.  
  
“We're... soul bonded. I'm his s-soul mate.” You choke out. Are you allowed to tell people? Should you be telling people? You just want to leave and find a phone immediately. Telling someone in person you and Gaster soul bonded was a very different experience than telling someone over the phone. You half feel like you're confessing to a sin and half bragging.  
  
The older woman immediately looks to the dog monster, who looks you up and down. Large dark eyes scan you, maybe looking into your soul. Your soul fidgets, pushing you toward the door but you stay still. Eyes still locked on you, he tilts his head slightly to speak to the older woman “I think she's telling the truth”  
  
The older woman leans back into her chair, seemingly satisfied with the dog monster's answer.  
  
“Can I have your name miss?” The dog monster asks, looking up to you.  
  
“Oh its (Y/N)”  
  
“Cool...” The dog monster scribbles on the index cards before placing them back into the pouch on the inside cover of each book, “you've got a week for each book, if you go over that week a 50 cent fee applies for each day you go over. Don't lose those cards in the back or you're charged 5 dollars. Each.” the dog monster explains, closing the books and pushing them toward you.  
  
You frown, taking the books back. This university was not messing around with it's books. You hold the books close to your chest. “well, okay thank you so much” and you turn to leave.  
  
“Yo hey, don't forget Dr. Gaster's id, I'm sure he'd be pissed if you lost it” the dog monster responds to your turned back. You quickly turn back around, to take the card from his out stretched hand.  
  
“When you see him again tell him Benjamin Bark says hey” The dog monster, Benjamin presumably, flips his hair out of his face.  
  
\--  
  
On your walk to the mechanical engineering building you look at the back of one of the books to see what exactly was written. The column in the middle where your name was had been incorrectly written as “(Y/N) Gaster”. You stop in your tracks. The wind picks up ever so slightly, tousling your hair while you stare at the name that doesn't actually exist. The morning sun heats your cheeks as your heart skips a beat. For a quick moment you feel like a little girl who wrote her crush's last name on the end of her name in her diary.  
  
For just a split second you feel giddy, before reminding yourself that isn't something you want.  
  
\--  
  
The clock on the wall reads 10:37 by the time you actually reach Gaster's office. It's like any other office, or rather how you imagined a university professors office would look and feel. A shelf full of books, a few knick-knacks sitting in front of them, probably given to him by previous students. A large futuristic looking poster reading “ASME CONFRENCE '71” hangs above a worn leather couch proudly.  
  
Just as you suspected there was a telephone in here, sitting on Gaster's desk. You set your belongings down on the couch. You plop yourself down into the chair behind the desk. Your toes barely touch the floor, but you don't bother adjusting the chair.  
  
You lift the receiver and dial your apartment's phone number, holding your breath as you wait.  
  
_Ring... ring... ri-_  
  
“Hello, (Y/LN) residence”  
  
“Ma?”  
  
The line is silent for a moment. You can hear her breathing.  
  
“(Y/N)?” your mother finally asks, a slight whine in her voice.   
  
“Hi ma”  
  
“(Y/N) where are you? Are you okay?”  
  
“Yeah I'm fine. Dr. Gaster is treating me well. I'm calling from the university and.. I... I have some questions” You twirl the cord around your index finger, holding the receiver to your ear. Your heart pounds loudly within your chest. You have no idea where to start or what to even tell your mother. You figure you might as well cut to the chase and ask:  
  
“Ma... was dad a witch?”  
  
Again, the line falls silent. You feel her heart racing and hear the panic in her breathing.  
  
"(Y/N)... I... I'm so sorry baby"  
  
This time, the line falls dead.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry about the end of his chapter but I'm also not that sorry because that's the kind of things I like.
> 
> Looking for drabbles or inspo pix or tunes to go along with this fic? Check out my tumblr pretty-wiccan-thing.tumblr.com I follow back (with my main tho). I just might take a drabble request if you're nice 8)


	12. IRA

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You go to your mother.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Remember those archive warnings?  
> ᕕ( ⨱ ∀ ⨱ )ᕗ

September 5th 1979  
  
 _Ring... ring... ring...  
_ “You have reached Cora and (Y/N) (Y/LN) please leave a message af-”  
  
You slam the phone back down on the cradle “FUCK. FUCK FUCK FUCK”. You try again.  
  
 _Ring... ring... ring...  
_ “You have reached Cora and (Y/N) (Y/LN) please lea-”  
  
“FUCK”  
Again.  
  
 _Ring... ring... ring...  
_ “You have reached Cora an-”  
  
“NO, FUCK. PICK UP”  
  
 _Ring... ring... ring...  
_ “You have re-”  
  
“MA WHAT THE FUCK”  
  
 _Ring... ring... ring...  
_ “You have r-”  
  
“MA, PICK. UP.”  
  
 _Ring... ring... ring...  
_ “You have reached Cora and (Y/N)(Y/LN) please leave a message after the tone BEEEE-”  
  
A shriek of frustration escapes you as you pound a fist on the desk. You're panicking. Why won't she answer, why did she let the line die, what does she know and why won't she tell you. Why did you have to learn more about yourself in two days than living with her for 26 years.   
  
What was she so afraid of.  
  
You couldn't wait for Gaster to come back. His desk is practically tear apart as you search for something to write on and with. With a shaking hand you scrawl a hastily written note, letting him know where he can find you, should he choose to come for you.  
  
He would. Of course he would. He's your mate.  
  
Against your soul screaming at you to stay put, you dig your house keys out of your bag. The keys slip between your fingers, sliding under the couch in a cruel twist. You're hyperventilating. You drop to your knees and claw under the couch until your fingers make contact with the cool metal. You pull them out, covered in dust. Your chest heaves.   
  
Your bag and the books left abandoned, you take off down the hallway as quickly as your legs will carry you. You skip steps on your way to the bottom floor. The tears streaming down your cheeks don't even register in your mind until you're stopped dead in your tracks.  
  
The hallway is completely empty, it feels as if the entire building is empty. You stare down.  
  
He's there.  
  
He stands tall, his black leather overcoat enveloping his figure. The light behind him, shining in through the door, obscures his facial features but you know. He's looking right at you.   
  
Gaster, your soul mate. Your forced soul mate.  
  
Your chest rises and falls, pitches and pulls. Your soul wants you to run to his arms, his soul does too. You want to run past him. Whatever you've chosen, your legs carry you toward him.  
  
The air below you could lift you into flight, but it doesn't because the aching lump in your throat keeps you from floating away.  
  
Silently, he catches you in his arms. You're bleeding. Twin trails of dark muted red shows the path you ran.  
  
“I... I...” is all you can stutter through your tears. But it is all you need to say.  
  
\--  
  
No one says anything the entire drive there. A heavy feeling of dread your chest stops you from feeling your soul or Gaster's soul for that matter. You feel as though you're in a dream world. Nothing feels real. Not the embrace, not the hurried walk to the car, and not sitting there bleeding out.  
  
The source of the bleeding had been coming from your wrists, as you quickly found out when you bled all over Gaster's shirt when you landed in his grasp. Your wrists throb but you're not in pain. No stinging, no aching, no burning. Just the sensation of blood leaving your body to drip on the seat. It doesn't even feel like its your blood. Why is it happening. Your mind is racing a million miles a second; that pain is real.  
  


Visions of your father and your mother screaming at each other flash in and out of your mind. Once again, only the seat belt keeps you propped up.   
  
You feel Gaster's gaze upon you. You know he's looking at your blood soaked jeans, the blood dripping down your hands, the blood soaking into the white leather of his car's interior. He was going to be angry, right?  
  
It's a massacre. But your mate remains silent.   
  
“I'm sorry” you whisper. Large tears clump your lashes together. Silently your lips quiver with fear and sadness. You need to get home, but you're unsure of what or who you'll find there. The moment lands. Gaster accelerates the vehicle around a slower one.  
  
“It's okay” His voice is cold and still, but you can hear the smallest ache of worry on his lips.  
  
Another vision of your father flashes, this time you can hear him.  
  
A heavy hand pounds into the table you ate all of your meals at. The vibrations of the pound echo through the house.  
 _  
“WHAT ARE YOU AFRAID OF?”_  
  
Except...  
  
It isn't a vision.  
  
\--  
  
 _Clink_  
  
Your keys land on the cement landing, slipping through your shaking, bloody fingers. You couldn't grip the key long enough to gain entry into your building.  
  
Silently, Gaster's long white fingers retrieve the keys for you and placing them back in your trembling hands. The blood seemingly dissolves against his skin, as if he'd never come into contact with it.  
  
“Slowly” he whispers.  
  
\--  
  
Flicking the light switch on and off seems only to yield darkness. You blink the tears out of your eyes. Someone must have tripped the breaker for the entire floor again.  
  
“Ma?” Out of habit you begin slipping off your shoes. The very same ones you're puked on last week, white tennis shoes with a faint beige stain at the front and back, now also coated in the blood pumping out of your veins. This time instead of being greeted by an angry woman in curlers with smoke pluming around her face, you're greeted by an unusual stillness. Gaster chooses to leave his shoes on.  
  
You lead the Lich further into the quiet apartment, into the kitchen. The vibrant yellow seems dimmed, the sun of the morning feels flat, as if it's not real. The news papers that usually line the table are missing. The stained yellow ashtray is gone. Even the sticky smell of cigarette smoke that always hung in the air like drapery is absent. Everything smells like bleach. Why is it so clean in here? This doesn't feel like home.  
  
This feels so very wrong.  
  
You feel Gaster's warmth at your back as you pass through the doorway into the oddly cool living room. The overstuffed sofa vacant. Piles of finished clothing sit in the various laundry hampers, each pile tied with a piece of twine and a piece of paper with the names of the owners written on them.   
  
Another vision, your mother is holding a baby. You can't see the face clearly but you know it's you. Your screaming as your mother screams over you.  
  
 _“SHE DESERVES MORE. SHE DESERVES TO... TO BE NORMAL, IRA”  
  
_ Ira. Your father's name is, was, Ira.  
  
You stop, dropping your head to your chest. You can't lift it, it's pulling you forward.  
  
His name was Ira.  
  
Why didn't you know this. You'd think growing up as an absolutely daddy's girl you'd know your own father's name. But... you always just called him Dad.  
  
“Ira... Ira” you repeat like a chant.  
  
You feel blood dripping between your fingers into the rug. But you remain still. You feel your heart beat loudly, painfully in your chest.  
  
 _Thump-thump_  
  
 _“CORA YOU CAN'T KEEP IT FROM HER FOREVER, AND IT'S GOING TO HURT MORE THAN IF YOU JUST FUCKING TELL HER”  
  
Thump-thump  
  
“I... I HAVE TO PROTECT HER”  
  
Thump-thump  
  
“YOU'RE GOING TO FUCKING KILL HER”  
  
Thump-thump  
  
“Then... I'll... I'll sacrifice them.. I don't need them they've brought me nothing worth having-”  
  
Thump-thump  
  
“...”  
  
Thump-thump  
  
“-not even you”  
  
Thump-thump  
  
“Cora...”  
  
Thump-thump  
  
“I... don't need them. I've never needed them”  
  
Thump-thump  
  
“You'll... you'll go mad”  
  
Thump-thump  
  
“I don't care”  
  
Thump-thump  
  
“I won't allow it”  
  
Thump-thump  
  
“...you won't be able to stop me”  
  
Thump-thump  
  
“...I'm going to tell her... one day, Cora”  
  
_“Ira” you look back to your mate, but you can barely see him through the tears welled in your eyes. The light from the small window in the living room illuminates his face like a spotlight. From the muddled look on Gaster's face you elaborate.  
  
“My father's name... is Ira. I didn't know. I didn't know...I...I”  
  
Gaster remains unmoved in the doorway separating you from the exit. You can't run, you have no where to go but further into the silent apartment.  
  
You look back. A solitary note sits flat on the table.  
  
 _(Y/N)  
  
I'm not proud of this, but I can't see any other solution. I know this will hurt you and leave you with more questions than answers and I fear my death with leave you to bend to the will of the Lich but I am weak, I am a coward, and I'm so very tired I simply cannot go on. I thought keeping your identity repressed was something I could do for the rest of my life, but as always your father was right. I was only sacrificing my power to repress yours at the cost of my sanity and your hap-  
  
_Your eyes slam shut as the note cascades to the floor. Your brain feels as if it's exploding, your head aches. Your head tilts up as your body falls forward.  
  
But you never meet the ground.  
  
Gaster's arm catches you mid-fall. His hand grips your arm, his forearm pressed into the odd stain on your sternum. Socked feet delicately grace the carpet as you seemingly float lost in the dream world.  
  
You remember. You remember everything.  
  
“I tried to kill myself... after my dad...”  
  
Everything comes back.  
  
Your parents relationship, your mother's drinking, the fights, the fear, the screaming, all the crying you did, the human friends you never had, the constant confusion and loneliness, the moving, the late nights lay awake wondering where you belong. Everything; organizing and cataloguing itself within your mind, bringing you memories past you were forced to forget.  
  
You lay in the air against Gaster's arm with your legs hanging limp. He's curiously silent, but you feel his soul whimper within yours.  
  
“...he told me I was a witch. 8 years ago, Gaster. My dad knew and he told me and now he's dead and I tried to kill myself because he told me and then he died for telling me and I KNOW. I REMEMBER I-” your heart thumps wildly inside your chest as you struggle to catch your breath against Gaster's arm. He pulls you toward his chest, his other arm wraps around your waist. He says something but you aren't listening. How could you listen with the frantic flood of bad memories coming back to you.  
  
Gaster's chest rises and falls against your back. His shift feels dry. You shake within his arms. “I... I want to read the rest”  
  
You went along thinking of your mother as this wonderful, loving woman who loved your father, who met with a mental breakdown after her husband died. In reality she was a coward, she was weak, and she was afraid. She never took you to school or anywhere else for a reason. She had been agoraphobic all these years and that's why you only had good memories of your father walking you to school and taking you where you needed to go. And you remember. She had a sister who worked as a nurse, but she wasn't a witch. Gaster releases you and places you back on the ground.   
  
The blood gone from your hands, your clothes, your body you retrieve the note.  
  
 _“...your happiness. I see now I was just making your life miserable in the pursuit of wanting it to be normal.  
  
I didn't love your father, and I never did. We bonded, accidentally, but he refused to release me for fear of killing me. I didn't want you, I tried to lose you, but once you were in my arms I've never felt so full of love. I _~~_wanted_~~ _needed to protect you I thought there was a chance you would be born without the affliction, but of course, with your father and I both being witches you were born a-  
  
_ The writing becomes almost inscrutable at this point _  
  
“-a witch too. I tried to take you and leave so many times, but the burning in my soul, the pain of being away from my mate was too much for me to bear. I couldn't get away from him, and I couldn't give you to my sister to raise as a human. You were never be able to live like a human anyway, but there was always hope you'd meet a human or a monster and genuinely fall in love and stop this bloodline, this dirty half-breed bloodline.   
  
When I die the curse I sacrificed my powers and sanity to place on you as a baby, and again when you were 18 will lift. You will remember everything I hid from you. You'll remember what you tried to do but you don't remember what I did.  
  
I murdered your father.  
  
Iona-”_  
  
“Iona... Iona was her sister...”  
  
 _“Iona gave me the sodium pentothal I used to murder your father. I thought about using it on myself and on you but I relented. He was strong, he could have killed me whenever he wanted, but he didn't because he was brave. He took care of his mate and his offspring the best he could. I was a coward so I murdered him.  
  
The curse was strong, but as the years passed I found it harder and harder to maintain, especially with the new element of covering the scars so you wouldn't remember. But I am so weak, (Y/N). My mind would not let me leave the house for 26 years. I wish I had used the drug on myself too”  
  
_Your eyes skip the next paragraph to look at your wrists. While the bleeding was gone as if it had never happened, two large jagged scars lay deep within each of your wrists, one over the other. Burgundy and deliberate, severing as a reminder. These weren't here before but the memories of their birth come flooding back.  
  
****  
  
You smashed a mirror. You pulled a shard through your skin. Blood pooled around your body as you slipped in and out of consciousness. Your father held your head to his chest as he drove, whispering for you to stay, whispering he was sorry, whispering he would take you away from her and let you know everything your soul longed to learn.  
  
Because you knew everything then. It was fall, your birthday. Your mother had fallen asleep on the couch. Your father sat you down at the kitchen table and revealed everything. This was the first time the curse had been broken since you were a baby. Your mother awoke, screaming at your father that she knew that he had broken the curse by telling you the truth. You fell to the floor shaking, overwhelmed with the new, old memories of days passed, no longer tinted rose by the golden haze. Every bad thing that had happened in your life, you remembered. As they happened, the fighting and the screaming, the golden haze surrounding your soul blocked the memory.  
  
“WHAT ARE YOU AFRAID OF” you father had screamed at your mother. You silently crawled back to your room. You were the cause of so much pain, so many fights. You were the reason your mother couldn't leave, the curse was the reason your father had lied to you for 18 years.  
  
It was when you reached your room did you try to kill yourself the first time.  
  
What was your mother afraid of, indeed.  
  
****  
  
You look back to the note in your trembling hands.  
  
 _“When you bonded with the Lich I felt your soul become heavy with burden. I feared it would happen if you went to him, and I tried to stop you, but not hard enough. Maybe I've been looking for an excuse to end my existence, and this was the easiest way. At the cost of my child's freedom, in a pool of shame and regret.  
  
But maybe you'll be stronger, you'll be able to break the bond and live your life as you see fit. Don't bend to his will, don't carry his offspring, don't let him lead you with his sweet direction.  
  
You have to be stronger than I was.  
  
When I finally leave this mortal plane, you'll know. You'll know everything.  
  
I love you.   
  
I'm sorry.  
  
Mom”_  
  
Gaster's gaze hovers over your shoulder. He'd been reading it too. You lift your head to look at him. He looks down to you, then down the hallway that leads to the bedrooms and the bathroom. Every muscle in your body tenses  
  
“She's... there” you whisper. Gaster gently presses against your back with his hand, encouraging you to go into the darkness.  
  
Slowly, deliberately you pull away from your mate as he stands motionless, watching you like a statue as you descend into the blackness of the hall way. Every step bringing you closer to what you dreaded.   
  
The darkness envelopes your form. You look back. Gaster still stands, waiting for you, unblinking, still covered in the morning light. He looks like an angel, if you didn't know any better, maybe the angel of death.  
  
You exhale, turning into the open door of the bathroom. There are no windows in the bathroom, everything is completely dark. You stand firm, only the very tips of your toes feel the cold tile of the bathroom but you feel your socks soaking up the liquid that had travelled from the bathroom to the carpeted hallway. It smells like copper. Your soul cries for you to return to Gaster, to let him deal with the situation, to let him make the choices, but you don't. Despite the fear and anxiety boiling in your chest, you're still braver than she ever was.  
  
You flick the switch for the light, but the power to the apartment remains cut offering you nothing to see but darkness. But you can feel her vessel, the left over warmth. The now sickeningly strong smell of L'eur Du Temps is all you can smell.  
  
“...Ma...ma” your voice shakes as you call into the darkness.  
  
But no body calls back.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This probably raises more questions than it answers.
> 
> \--
> 
> Find me at pretty-wiccan-thing.tumblr.com for drabbles not posted here, inspo, and other notes!


	13. OUT I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You got a titty out

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been so fucking tired work has fucking destroyed my life, hence chapters may be a bit slower for the month of December.

_October 7 th, 1979_  
  
Blink  
  
_“Cora... why”_  
  
Blink  
  
“She deserves better Ira, she... deserves better”  
  
Blink  
  
Why would he go along with this. Why didn't he just try to break the soul bond if your mother was so unhappy, even if it meant she would die? Why would he father an unwanted child. Why would he do any of this?  
  
You were wrong about both of your parents. Your father wasn't brave for standing by his mate, he was just as scared as she was, he was just more determined.  
  
Yet how could your mother rationalize cursing you like that? By repressing who you are, letting you think there was something wrong with you when human boys didn't want to kiss you, by blocking any unpleasant memories of your past until they all came flooding back in a whirlwind of pain.  
  
A whirlwind that caused you to attempt to kill yourself.  
  
In the pursuit of normal he just ended up hurting all three of you.  
  
You could start to see why your mother resorted to murder. She was trapped. Maybe not on purpose but she was trapped and he refused to let her go, to even try to let her go.  
  
Kinda like how you were trapped now.  
  
A month passed since you found your mother's body. Lifeless, soulless, void of anything that said it once belonged to someone who loved watching 'Happy Days', loved those weird cheese cracker sandwiches, and could sew a button hole without even looking.  
  
You'd not been back to your apartment since finding the body and subsequently fainting face first into the blood.  


\--  
  
_September 5th,_ _1979  
_  
You awake sitting on a pink sofa, in a very warm living room. Pink shag carpets and ripped wallpaper. This is Mrs. Oppel's apartment. A sticky, suction-cup hand holds onto yours as if you may float away. Mrs. Oppel? No no, this was her daughter, Flora, the spitting image of her mother. Green to blue colour shifting scales glittering under the floor lamps, large glossy eyes scanning you up and down as you came back to life.  
  
“W-wheres Gaster” the first words out of your mouth are of course about your mate. Your head aches, your heart aches, and the relentless screaming and pulling of your soul tells you is he someone nearby. Moving your head in any direction results in a painful stickiness clinging to your skin where the blood, your own mother's blood, still remained. Despite sitting in the sweltering heat of your reptilian neighbour's apartment you feel cold. You feel a million miles away from anyone, like you've drifted into space.  
  
You don't remember how you got to be sitting on the sofa. Someone, maybe your mate, must have carried you, placed your down gently, asked someone for a hand towel that never came. Maybe he brushed the hair off your forehead, maybe he instructed Flora to sit with you until you came around, maybe he really did take control of the situation as you so wanted.  
  
“Dr. Gaster is speaking to the police with mom” Flora's voice is soft like a cloud. A soft little cloud, floating in a lonely sky as the sun descends over the horizon, til it's dark, darker, and yet darker.  
  
\--  
  
It wasn't until you were jostled awake by Flora did you open your eyes again.  
  
“The police are here” She whispers. Your eyes aren't focusing, staring into the kitchen only results in blobs moving in and out of your line of vision. You drop your head back into the sofa. You only wanted for your mate to retrieve you, hold you, kiss you, tell you he loved you.  
  
Ew what no you didn't.  
  
Flora's hand squeezes yours as heavy boots stomp through the kitchen and into the living room closer and closer.  
  
A booming voice breaks the silence; “Ms. (Y/LN)”  
  
Smells like sushi.  
  
You lift your head back up and rub your eyes, smearing the blood and sweat away from your eyes. Struggling to focus on the blue blob you groan softly. “W..where is...?”  
  
“Ms. (Y/LN) my name is Captain Undyne, I'd like to ask you a few questions if that's ok...” her words trail off. Your eyes slowly focus to reveal the blob talking to you is actually a statuesque Fish woman, scales a deep dark blue scales seemingly blending into her police uniform. One of her large yellow eyes hidden by a patch and her bright red hair peeks out from under her cap.  
  
“...I...w-wheres...” no sooner did the words leave your mouth did your mate appear from around the corner, closely followed by Mrs. Oppel.  
  
You immediately spring to life, jumping up from the couch, following your soul into Gaster's arms. You can't answer, you can't do anything. You just press your face into the crisp white button up with your arms wrapped tightly around his waist.  
  
And you sob.  
  
You sob, and sob, and sob and sob.  
  
\--  
  
Lisa was very quick to forgive you and very quick to blame herself for acting like, in her words, “a little fucking bitch ass”, and opened her apartment to you. It seemed like a good idea, but around 1:34am on the first night you felt the tug on your soul, the ache in your heart, and the pinch in your back from sleeping on the couch. All these things together told you that you had to return to Gaster, your mate. Like a burning, aching, deep desire in the bite of your stomach, it was unbearable.  
  
And he must have felt it too.  
  
Or that's what you figured when his car pulled up next to you as you were walking back to his home, or rather trying to anyway. You practically fell into his car and into his lap, overcome with emotions. Your mouths met as you sat in his lap, the door still open, his car still running. It felt like his hands were all over your body, but maybe they were. One of his true hands kept you firmly planted on his lap while the other rode up under your shirt.  
  
He took you in his car at 2:14am.  
  
\--  
  
_October 7_ _th_ _1979_  
  
You lay flat on your back in the bed you guessed you shared with Gaster now.  
  
You refused Lisa's calls unless they were directly related to the dress. Mrs. Oppel would call to check on you which you accepted but quickly ushered her off the line feigning sickness or fatigue. Run and Chase despite them still coming to the house to clean it were forbidden from speaking to you under Gaster's orders, as per your request. Though you would feel Run's eyes upon you, filled with sadness. Run would leave you notes in your shoes or on the vanity Gaster purchased for you. You haven't read any of them yet.  
  
Your entire family was dead, you were the last one alive. Your mother's sister Iona died when you were 19, apparently of a heart attack. Your father was an only child, like you. No cousins, no aunts or uncles, no grandparents. Not a single soul. All you had now was a forced soul bond that you weren't sure could actually be broken. But with any luck your blood-line would fizzle out with a soft whimper, maybe at your own hand.  
  
You examine your wrists, holding them above you. Just how difficult would it be to reopen these? Two deep scars on either wrist. One pair form the first time you tried to kill yourself.  
  
But... where was this other pair from? They seemed fresher than lines from 8 years ago. You tuck your arms back under the blankets.  
  
Fatigue, weakness, and the desire to not be left alone pushes you back into your dream world where you don't have to entertain such ideas.  
  
\--  
  
When Gaster arrived home he did not scold you for still being in bed, for having not showered, or eaten. In fact, he was quiet. Well, he was quiet every night but this night felt... different. A soft chatter downstairs, but it could have been anything.  
  
“(Y/N)” he sits down next to you, running his fingers through your tangled hair. A whimper escapes you ever so softly. Everything inside you wants you to sit up, kiss him, tell him you love him, climb on top of him as you did weeks ago in the car.  
  
But you don't. Your soul is weak, but your heart is determined.  
  
Even if the last time you had sex was in the car, all those weeks ago.  
  
To lay beside his mate and not touch her as he so wanted, and frankly needed was actual Hell to him. And honestly it was Hell to your soul too. You notice Gaster seems to smell like whiskey more and more often. When he'd fall asleep beside you, his mouth would part ever so slightly and your name would slip past his lips. The first night it happened you frozen, thinking it was nothing more than a stress-induced auditory hallucination. The second night you found yourself resting on his chest, above the stain on his chest, which had taken the same shape as yours almost exactly, watching as he babbled your name in his sleep, feeling his chest rise and fall.  
  
Almost immediately as you laced your fingers in his did his sleep talk stop. Gaster's babbling in his sleep is enduring you think. It lets you see him at his most vulnerable and in the morning he has no recollection.  
  
“You have a guest...”  
  
Oh, maybe the chatter downstairs was someone else.  
  
“Who?” you ask lazily but the answer bursts into the room before Gaster can even reply.  
  
“SURPRISE BITCH!”  
  
\--  
  
“Lisa please” you whimper practically in tears. Lisa forced you out of bed, she forced you into the shower, she forced you to do your make up, she forced you into a now too-big party dress that hung off your frame like a bag and threatened to let a nipple slip out, she forced you into your heels and now she was trying to force you out the door. You clung to the door frame of Gaster's office as Lisa tried to pull you out the door, legs wiggling in her own too-high heels.  
  
It's your 27th birthday. You completely forgotten. With the stress of your mother comitting suicide you'd forgotten everything. But of course, as your best friend, Lisa remembered. She was determined to take you out and feed you exactly 27 shots.  
  
“Gaster tell her no” small nail marks in the frame show the trail of just how far Lisa was able to drag you.  
  
Gaster glances up from his desk, surrounded by thick stacks of paper before glancing back down. He had far too many shitty essays to tear apart to intervene.  
  
“Dr. Gaster please tell her how gorgeous she looks” Lisa changes her direction and pushing you into the office before following you inside. You stumble, uneasy on your heels like a baby deer.  
  
Gaster looks up once more. His dark eyes run up and down your body as you shiver. You had been eating the absolute minimum in order to keep yourself alive the last few weeks. Your hair was falling out, you'd lost far too much weight, the bags under your eyes Lisa attempted to cover still shone through the concealer. All things considered, you looks fucking terrible.  
  
A pained look strikes Gaster's face. He knows you look terrible but he cannot simply say you look like a sickly prostitute who doesn't have any hips anymore, though that is his initial thought. Instead he chooses to go with the non-committal type of comment:  
  
“Your breast is entirely out, my pet”  
  
You quickly shift the strap of the loose halter top to cover your breast once more, before turning to Lisa.  
  
“My tits are going to be out all fucking night please don't make me go out”  
  
Tits or not, Lisa forced you into your denim jacket and out of the house for the first time in a month, and you were going to have a fun time goddammit.  
  
As you're stuffed into the taxi, you feel the slightest tug in your chest, but it's not from your soul.  
It's Gaster's.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Are you looking to chat at me or tell me what you think of my work to my face?  
> WELL NOW YOU CAN CHECK ME OUT AT http://pretty-wiccan-thing.tumblr.com/
> 
> Drabbles always appear there first before they appear here.  
> Plus there are some exciting things happening. Stay tuned ;)


	14. OUT II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Very relatable as you too can get drunk in an office if you were so compelled.

_October 7_ _th_ _1979_  
  
With Lisa pushing you out the door, Gaster felt his soul tug, wanting to bring you back into the house. As hard as the tugging was, he knew if you got out, even for just a few hours, and came back inebriated beyond thought it might be the push to bring you out of your mourning, even just a little bit.  
  
Maybe.  
  
He sighs, reading through another essay, this time about the Archimedes' Screw and it's use throughout history and its place in modern society. The same essay he's read a few times before. Oh good, someone is selling an old essay. In bold, red ink he writes “0, please see me during office hours”. Would he be merciful and give this student another chance or drop them from his course entirely? He usually decides based on if the student is remorseful or not, always a fun experiment.  
  
The chair makes a soft creak as Gaster leans back, dropping his head to stare at the ceiling.  
  
He felt something. Something in his chest, heart, and soul. Something that compelled him to care for you beyond your basic needs, something that caused him to whisper your name in his sleep, something that compelled him to wrap his arms around your waist protectively at night. Something that, in a very uncharacteristic change, made his heart flutter. Something he'd never felt before in his 842 years.  
  
love.  
  
The lust was something he'd expected after being fate bonded to you, that was just something that was going to happen due to a chemical reaction. But this...  
  
love  
  
...was something he did not account for. Of course love itself is only a chemical reaction too, but it still caught him off guard when he first felt the alien feeling.  
  
Was it when you willingly kissed him in his car the night you walked back to him? Was it because your tossing and turning at night was quelled by his touch? Was it just the mere act of copulation that causes these feelings to arise?  
  
Maybe it was the way you expertly stitched and hemmed with ease. Maybe it was the way you smelled, like carnations, cedar, and rosewood. Maybe it was the way you sung off pitch to your favourite songs while swinging your hips. Maybe it was the way you sung so sweetly beneath him.  
  
Maybe it was just everything.  
  
The academic within Gaster wants to pinpoint the exact cause of these feelings but maybe there isn't a straightforward answer. A frustrated huff escapes Gaster's lips. He sits back up to rest his elbows on the desk and his weary head in his hands.  
  
He chuckles.  
  
Love.  
  
How useless. Just another distraction from his work.  
  
A silly, aloof, warm, beautiful distraction. A distraction who eats soup like a savage. A distraction who seemingly doesn't know how to hang a towel on a hook. A distraction that was so willing to spread her legs for him. A distraction that was so very willing to call him Daddy when he requested it.  
  
Gaster summons a few false hands. They disappear out of the room momentarily, only to return single file bringing a glass and a rapidly disappearing bottle of whiskey. The whiskey was purchased not even a week ago, but your resistance to his touch was becoming more than he could bear. Sober, anyway.  
  
He assumed he was immune to such feelings after living for so many years. He'd been with so many women, men, humans, half-breeds, monsters. He'd tasted just about everything the earth had to offer him and never felt the tug of his soul and the heat in his heart for another.  
  
Yet he felt for you.  
  
The hands pour about an inch of amber liquid in to the glass, which is quickly downed and refilled.  
  
Your denial of his touch, his kiss, his words his... more intimate touch had begun to cause an ache in Gaster's heart. A physical pain in his chest.  
  
Gaster downs the second glass almost immediately, the burning in his throat a mild distraction from the burning in his chest.  
  
It wasn't your fault, you were in mourning. He knew that. You were mourning not just for the loss of your mother but also for the loss of everything you had and everything you thought you were. Anyone would be drawn away from their most carnal desires in this situation surely.  
  
The curse being lifted revealed so much to you. Your father tried, but when it was too much he drew inward with the alcohol only to strike outward at your mother. Your mother loved you, but she never wanted you and when she had you she was so disappointed in your... affliction, that she chose to hide it from everyone, even you.  
  
But you weren't the cause of their unhappiness, you were only a symptom. It wasn't your fault. Gaster slams the glass back down on the desk, the vibrations of his frustration causing a few of the papers from his pile to wobble. Why can't you see that the events were not yours to take blame for?  
  
Gaster rearranges his papers, laying the plagiarized essay on the pile of essays he'd already read through and marked. Some good, some great, but most of them are sub par. A pile still sits for him to read through. Lisa would have been through all of these essays in a matter of a few hours, but she never reapplied to be his TA. Gaster wasn't surprised, she simply wouldn't have had the time. His other go-to TA, Benjamin Bark, had a sudden epiphany in the middle of the year, last year, that inspired him to change his major to library science. Such a shame, Gaster thought, he was such a good student.  
  
The other students Gaster interviewed for the open TA position were unmotivated, ignorant, and downright lazy. He decided after kicking a young woman in a crop top out of his office it would be easier to just undertake all of the work himself. It cost him a lot of time spent in his office, both at home and at the university, but it isn't anything he can't manage.  
  
Or so he thought until you came to stay for an indefinite amount of time.  
It seems as though he can't get anything done with you moping around ins his bed. The constant crying, self neglect and unwillingness to talk was almost too much. Gaster had most certainly kicked more beautiful woman out of his bed for less. If he didn't...  
  
...love you...  
  
...like he did, you would have been among them.  
  
But Gaster isn't a stupid man, he knows you don't return his feelings. You recoil at his kiss, his pet name for you gives you a shiver, and the sex is, of course, only because of the chemical compelling you to desire him between your legs. Of course he notices.  
  
The burning ache inside him licks at his chest. He downs another shot in an attempt to douse it.  
  
Again, it isn't your fault. You can't make someone love you, a lesson Gaster knows all too well. Women, men, and monsters alike across time tried to make Gaster love them with grand gestures, quiet pleading, threats of suicide, but he was always unwavering.  
  
But the one person to finally cause these feelings of...  
  
love  
  
...to burn hot within him and you didn't even try.  
  
Freshly refilled glass in hand, Gaster rises from his chair. His eyes momentarily graze over the sofa where he saw a vision of you for the first time, in that navy dress, holding a baby. Something about that particular vision seemed to stick within his mind. He grimaces, turning his attentions out the window to look out into the neighbourhood.  
  
Gaster has never envisioned himself having children, but an off-handed comment from his assistant at the time, Alphys, made him think twice;  
  
_“B-b-b-but who's going to maintain the c-core when your g-g-gone?”  
  
_ Her nasally voice repeats in his mind. They had been discussing children after a group of school-aged children visited the lab in Hotland on a field trip. That seemed like a lifetime ago. It was almost a life time ago.  
  
Of course Gaster rationally knew that even if he had children there was no guarantee they would inherit his intelligence, or his passion for the sciences. But Alphys' remark triggered something in the back of his mind, some primal desire to pass his genetics on to the next generation, to keep his blood alive. Some primitive desire to see his progeny set loose in the world.  
  
But of course being a man of science there was no way he'd let his offspring be muddled by the inferior genetics of non-Lich, and God help him if he could find a willing female Lich.  
  
Thus, his sons; created from his own bone and flesh in an ancient ritual brought into the modern world with his innate knowledge of the craft and his command of the sciences.  
  
_“I guess children never turn out how you think”_  
  
Your words were more correct than you knew. To start, Sans and Papyrus had grown into skeletons, possessing none of the flesh their father had. Despite technically being twins, Papyrus grew to be tall and lanky like his father, but Sans remained fairly short. Physical attributes aside Sans possesses his father's great intelligence, while Papyrus has his enthusiasm. But neither seemed to show an interest in the sciences much to Gaster's disappointment.  
  
Gaster sips the whiskey, glancing to one of the walls covered in a gallery of photographs. Near the top, on the left, a very old photo catches his eye. A formal portrait of himself and his sons when they were still quite young, maybe late 50's. No one looks happy.  
  
Probably because no one was happy.  
  
Another sip.  
  
\--  
  
Gaster could absolutely kill an entire night simply looking around his office, browsing through his photo albums, picking up books he started reading years ago only to read a chapter and put it back on the shelf. Quietly observing was one of his favourite things to do. Quietly observing while downing an obscene amount of whiskey probably his top favourite thing to do.  
  
Had the whiskey caught up with him? Of course.  
  
Gaster found himself sitting in the same section of the sofa you seemed to favour, opposite from his desk. His head spinning, arms resting along the back of the sofa. It feels so easy now that he's admitted it to himself. He could almost say it aloud.  
  
He loves you. He's in love with you.  
  
When it happened exactly? It doesn't matter. All that matters is he's in love with you, but you don't love him back.  
  
“What a mess” he chuckles, another sip of the whiskey, another attempt to douse his feelings. Of course, to little avail. Just a dizzy mind and tired eyes. But he is determined to wait up for you, lest you stumble in the front door and vomit on the rug.  
  
\--  
  
Lost in his drinking and the replaying of Disraeli Gears on the record player, Gaster completely lost track of time. It wasn't until the jiggling of the front door did he come back to life after trying to read the same paragraph in one of the many engineering journals he's subscribed to. Stumbling, only very slightly, oh because he's tired of course, Gaster leans against the door frame of his office. The journal already forgotten on the arm of the leather sofa.  
  
It was just you, stumbling in. You're missing your jean jacket and heels, but somehow your purse still sits at your hip, thankfully. The sound of the taxi taking off and Lisa shouting something unintelligible drifts in from outside as quickly as they disappear. Once more, one of your breasts peeks out from behind the too-big halter top, but you don't seem to notice.  
  
“H-hi” you mumble, eyes half-lidden. You can barely focus but your soul tells you its Gaster standing there. Your heart flutters, his does too, but neither of you know.  
  
One step, another step, a third step. Your steps are sloppy, you can't see. You rely on your soul to lead you into Gaster's chest, which it does dutifully. For the first time in weeks you feel confident enough to touch you and, based on his arms wrapping around you, you feel enough at ease for him to touch you back. You've forgotten everything, your mother's suicide, your realization of your true identity, the fate bond that keeps dragging you back to Gaster. You just feel like you.  
  
Albeit very inebriated.  
  
“Where are your shoes, my pet” Gaster asks, lifting you as if you weigh nothing. You feel like nothing in his arms.  
  
“L-Lis...sa” You mumble, tilting your head into the crook of his neck. You can't say anything more. The sweet embrace of sleep calls your name rather aggressively. The room spins, but Gaster feels like an anchor keeping you from flying away.  
  
Without another word Gaster carries you across the foyer, up the stairs and into the bedroom, summoning false hands to ensure the door is locked and the lights are off.  
  
Even though you strongly smell like every kind of alcohol under the sun, the scent of carnations, cedar, and rosewood still find their way into Gaster's senses. Black streaky smudges line your eyes, a trail of black leading down your cheeks and chin tell a story of how you cried, maybe of sadness, maybe of gladness, but it doesn't matter now. Your lipstick has worn away in the middle, only the very outsides of your lips have any colour. Your cheeks shine bright red from the alcohol you consumed. Sweat dots your forehead and holds bits of your hair tightly to your skin.  
  
You're so lovely.  
  
Gaster sets you on the bed before sitting next to you. He gentle brushes bits of hair off your face, as he often does after setting you on the bed. Your eyes keep opening, then closing.  
  
Opening and closing. Opening and closing. You're quickly losing your battle to sleep.  
  
“(Y/N)” Gaster whispers. You groan, eyes fully closing as you struggle with the halter top of your dress, pulling it up over your head and off your chest. You wiggle your hips, or what you have left of them, as you slowly pull the rest of your dress off. It's itchy, there's no way you could sleep in it.  
  
“Mmmmwat” you slur, fully nude. In your drunken state you certainly weren't shy about disrobing entirely in front of him.  
  
Gaster watches silently as your chest rises and falls. As the stain that marks you as his mate, the same one on his own chest marking him as yours, rises and falls. Only the soft noise of air passing through your lips and exhaling through your noise fill the space only barely.  
  
Gaster looks away from you, only for a moment. It's within him, the desire to break the silence. His soul pounds at his chest, begging him to open his mouth and tell you exactly what is inside him.  
  
He waits a moment. Then another. You groan softly, rolling onto your side. You hadn't even bothered to get under the blankets.  
  
“...(Y/N) I...”  
  
He swallows uncomfortably, maybe he shouldn't. He already knows how you feel, would telling you how he feels be somehow unfair?  
  
Against his better judgement, Gaster makes a snap decision.  
  
“...I love you”  
  
The moment lands unceremoniously as you roll onto your stomach, silently.  
  
You're asleep.  


 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> !!!!
> 
> It's like 4am I might go change somethings tomorrow idk.
> 
>  
> 
> http://pretty-wiccan-thing.tumblr.com/


	15. OUT III

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which you puke because you drank too much you stupid idiot

_Monday October 8_ _th_ _1979_  
  
The night did not end with you sleeping peacefully. You ingested more liquor than you knew you could reasonably handle. Maybe it was because the alcohol helped to numb the pain you felt at the violent loss of your mother. Maybe it helped to numb the pain you felt at the sudden forceful gain of your memories, your scars, your odd stain, and your mate. Maybe it was the fact that you weren't buying your own shots, or maybe the fact that Lisa kept insisting “it's your birthday” or “you've only had a few shots whats one more?”  
  
In your sad stumbling to the bathroom to vomit, you found yourself dressed in a too-big tshirt and your old gym shorts from high school. Burgundy dolphin shorts that sat high on your waist and high on your thigh. It seems that shorts just keep getting shorter and shorter, though you didn't really complain at the time.  
  
And it didn't really matter as you feel your stomach contract, as if it's being punch by an invisible fist. Trying to hold back just makes it worse. The alcohol and acid burn your throat on it's way out of your mouth. Everything stomps on your pallet as you're forced to relive the events from just a few hours ago; the vodka shots, the tequila shots, the whiskey shots, the shot of unknown origin you sipped from between some woman's breasts, the beer you shot gunned with Lisa, the martini you chugged while Elton John's “Your Song” played over the speakers of the dark, dank, smoke filled bar you moved on to after being kicked out of the first bar.  
  
You suddenly remember crying into Lisa's shoulder, as Elton sings over your conversation...  
  
_“LISA I'M SO SOR-hic-RY”_  
  
_~And you can tell everybody this is your song_  
  
_“(Y/N) what are you sorry for?”_  
  
_~It may be quite simple but now that it's done_  
  
_“It should have been... been you”_  
  
_~I hope you don't mind, I hope you don't mind that I put down in words_  
  
_“What. What should have been me?”_  
  
_~How wonderful life is while you're in the world_  
  
_“You.. -hic- you should have been bonded to Dr. Gaster”_  
  
_~I sat on the roof and kicked off the moss_  
  
_“...”_  
  
_-well a few of the verses well, they've got me quite cross_  
  
_“L...Lisa I'm... I should never have-”_  
_~But the sun's been quite kind while I wrote this song_  
  
_“(Y/N) It's... it isn't your fault”_  
  
_~It's for people like you that_  
  
_“But I”_  
  
_~keep it turned on_  
  
_“(Y/N) IT ISNT YOUR FUCKING FAULT. YOU COULDN'T HAVE DONE ANYTHING ELSE YOU DUMB FUCKING BITCH, I LOVE YOU.”_  
  
Wiping the vomit from your chin, you realize Lisa is right. The universe was going to force you to cross paths with your mate sooner or later, if it was something that was fated to happen. A gentle vibration in your soul warms your chest, as if to assure you that you had no choice in the matter. For a brief moment you feel oddly at ease.  
  
If you stay with Gaster you won't have to be alone. You wouldn't have to wade through the seemingly endless pool of sub-par potential mates, awkward first dates, meaningless, unsatisfying sex, all to end in a broken heart or possibly marriage.  
  
Certainly things you would prefer to avoid.  
  
The moment of ease is suddenly jerked away from you as a sudden urge to vomit forces your head back into the toilet bowl.  
  
\--  
  
The night out certainly helped to lift your spirits as far as Gaster could tell and as far as you were willing to admit. Getting together with Lisa to talk, scream, cry, and of course get blindly drunk for your birthday allowed you enough of your old self, the self you thought you were before all of this witch business begun, to fall into Gaster's arms without flinching at his touch. A much missed connection. Gaster would not ever admit, but all was momentarily well when your soul pulled you into his.  
  
His inhibitions clouded by the alcohol, Gaster let himself open up to you. He revealed something he'd never been truthfully able to tell anyone, something he never though he would or even could happen to a Lich.  
  
Thankfully, you'd fallen asleep in a drunken haze before the moment landed. In Gaster's eyes telling you at that moment was foolish, and certainly a sign of weakness. Emotions were for lesser beings surely. Well, not that you were a lesser being BUT you were raised as a human. Well, not that there was anything wrong with humans, humans do certainly have a certainly do have their place whether it be on their knees or their backs or...  
  
Opening the door to his no longer empty home Gaster brushes that thought away, not sure where that line of thought was leading. Hopefully you had not asphyxiated on your own vomit while he was away. Run and Chase were not due to clean the house again until Tuesday so he couldn't even ask them to keep half an eye on you. He rationalized that you had managed to live 27 years without choking or killing yourself, even while trying, so you should be okay for a few hours.  
  
When Gaster left to attend his morning lecture you were wrapped around the toilet like a vine around a lamp post. Try as he may, you refused to leave the bathroom, he couldn't even lift you. Just as well, you're an adult, technically, who can make her own decisions. However, after failing to find you in the living room, on the phone, or in bed Gaster discovers you just as he had left you; unmoving, head resting on the seat of the toilet as you sleep, a small line of drool connecting you to the porcelain fixture. A pitiful display made only more pitiful by the pained look on your face and sweat shining on your forehead.  
  
What a bother. Gaster lifts you in his arms with ease to place you back in bed where you should have been. So light, so warm to the touch. Setting you down your lips curl into a smile followed quickly by a soft moan as you adjust to your new resting spot.  
  
A tiny shred of afternoon light peeks it way through the thick curtains, illuminating your forehead, as if to tell Gaster that's where he should kiss you. A sharp breath drags Gaster's gaze down to your lips, pouty and parted. You drop your head, his gaze and lowered to your neck, to your collar bone peeking out of the top of the shirt, to your hardened nipple showing through the thin fabric of your white t-shrit, to your newly pointed hip bone poking out from the top of your shorts, to your rounded uncovered thighs, to.. your scarred wrists.  
  
The scars that told the story of how you tried to end your own life not once, but twice, seem to stare back as Gaster as he stares into them. He'd seen them every single day for the last month, since your mother took her own life in a similar, bloody fashion, but it surprised him every time you weren't actively trying to keep them hidden or turned away from his gaze. It wasn't as if he was without his own scars.  
  
Scars from literal lifetimes ago, scars from his own miscalculations, scars from the creation of life. Gaster's scars were from the pursuit of progress. Your scars were from an act of destruction. Instead of moving forward you wanted to leave yourself in the past. Just another obituary no one would read tucked away in a library's archive as time marches forward.  
  
But maybe it was fate that stopped you from dying twice by your own hand. Maybe it was fate that made you become a tailor. Maybe it was fate that Lisa found you crying outside a bar and you suddenly became her best friend. Maybe it was fate that Laurel checked the wrong box in the catalogue.  
  
Maybe it was fate that Gaster had lived so many life times and never felt the sting of love until you came along.  
  
That word again; love.  
  
Of course Gaster knew what love was prior to meeting you, and of course he experienced love in different iterations; Gaster loves engineering, he loves whiskey, he loves women with big hips and glossy eyes, he loves men with slender legs who preach the word of God, he loves monsters with souls made up of mainly of perseverance, he loves the creation of the turtleneck, he loves hosting parties in the summer, he loves speaking at conventions, he loves...  
  
You. He loves you.  
  
He loves the smile on your face, the way your eyes flutter, the way your shiny hair catches the light, the way your hips sway as you walk up the stairs in front of him, the way your skin bruises so easily under his touch, the way you so quickly bend to his requests, the way you loudly called him daddy whi-  
  
Gaster huffs, choosing to quickly leave you before he was unable to restrain himself.  
  
Gaster would be lying if he said he wasn't a little upset you never mentioned when your birthday was. Of course he'd completely lost track of his own, but for creatures with such short life spans he knew the celebration of one's birth was something of importance; before he reached such an advanced age and the celebration his own birth became a repetitive task that only served to remind him of a lonely existence, he recalls celebrating his own birth sometime in the summer months.  
  
Descending the stairs into the foyer and into his office Gaster takes a seat as his desk, as he had done every day for several years. But instead of sitting down to a pile of essays to mark or correspondence to reply to he had another task to sit down to.  
  
Gaster needed to figure out what he could do for you for your birthday.  
  
Of course, Gaster had taken on lovers of all types over the years, and celebrated their birth as they requested. Jewellery, lingerie, books, perfume, fancy outings, once in a life time experiences, he'd done it all for lovers before you. But you're different, you're his mate, his soul bonded mate. Surely you wouldn't be impressed with a trinket or bauble. It needed to be good.  
  
Like, really good.  
  
"Ah... Fuck" he growls.

The blank pages stares back at him. Yet another victim of blank page syndrome.

Gaster had a long evening ahead of him.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey sorry for the wait between the two chapters buuut work was insane and I did a lot of crying. Thankfully I have the next chapter planned out already so it'll probably be out a lot sooner than you might think *wonk*  
> So please enjoy a nice chapter... just... being nice.
> 
> If you're looking for more regular updates here's my tumblr (I always follow back... with my main!)  
> http://pretty-wiccan-thing.tumblr.com/ 
> 
> Looking for a soundtrack? Look no further  
> http://8tracks.com/meow_witch
> 
> Looking for a reading of the first chapter? BUDDY YOU GOT IT  
> https://soundcloud.com/koot-woolers/season-of-the-witch-ch-1-with-bg-music
> 
> ALSO DO YOU WANNA SEE SOME ART OF THIS FIC DRAWN BY NOT ME? FAM I GOT YOU COVERED  
> http://upbeatbox.tumblr.com/post/154317184029/this-is-fanart-for-my-super-cool-friends-fic-kind  
> (autoplay warning tho)
> 
> <3


	16. OLFACTORY

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What smells

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote this sober but then edited it while I was on some medication.  
> I DID IT BACKWARDS OOPS.

CHAPTER 16:  
  
_Tuesday, October 9 th 1979 _  
  
The spinning room had finally come to a stop. The burning in your stomach finally numbed into nothing. The pain in your head finally dulled. It was over, finally. The hangover from Hell was finished wrecking havoc on your body. If you were the religious type you would have prayed to your Gods for the sweet release and dedicate yourself to a vow of sobriety. But you are not a Godly woman.  
  
Even the pain in your heart was starting to wane, the dust settling in your mind at long last. You feel as though you can come to terms with the fact that your mother committed suicide rather than answer to you why she hid your powers and lineage from you for so long, that your father was every bit of a coward as your mother and turned into an abusive prick when he couldn't deal with it, and that fact that you tried to kill yourself, well, once that you can remember.  
  
This second set of scars almost directly on top of the older set still remain a mystery. That memory seems to be locked away in a much deeper place, a place not even the suicide of your mother could uncover. A deep, dark place inside your very soul, or perhaps a place you're not even sure exists on this plane of existance.  
  
For an entire month you've looked at the overlapping scars on your wrists. Maybe the fresher ones are from when you were 18 and the older ones are from even earlier? Did you try to kill yourself as a child? Did someone else try to kill you?  
  
You glance away from your scars, placing the pitcher of lemonade you made the other day back into the fridge with a clink. Run leans against the counter opposite the fridge as the sun floats in the window behind her, illuminating her like some other worldly creature as she takes rest, having finished her share of the housework. The acrid scent of bleach clings to her silky blonde fur. Bleach stains the rag hanging out of her pocket of her jeans, as well as the pocket of her jeans. Chase's footsteps echo through the upstairs bedrooms, still hard at work.  
  
Run had scolded you almost immediately upon entering, after you innocently said hello, as to why you never called. Upon a second inspection of the note left in your hand from the last meeting where they had that cryptic vision, a crudely scribbled series of number was written down on the opposite side. You'd wondered why you were left with a note with just their names on it.  
  
You really need to be more observant. But it's not like you would have called them anyway, what would you have talked about? Run seems to think you have lots to talk about, based solely on the amount of notes she left for you each time she came to clean.  
  
“Yeah I... didn't read any of the notes you left” You admit as the refrigerator door shuts with a soft thud. The short, textured glass in your hand was absolutely meant to hold whiskey, Gaster would be rolling his eyes at you if he saw you now. Gaster is a firm believer that everything has it's purpose; a place for everything and everything in it's place. Lemonade did not belong in a whiskey glass.  
  
Whatever.  
  
A loud groan escapes Run as she pushes herself away from the counter “well if you HAD read them you would know I've been thinking about the prediction that came to Chase and I.”  
  
“Why would you be thinking about my prediction?” you take a quick sip of the lemonade. A shiver runs down your shoulders; there isn't near enough sugar in this, “we haven't even talked in like, a month”  
  
“I know but like, we don't usually remember predictions, I mean, Chase doesn't. I usually do, but it's more like a dream. But yours...” Run raises her eyes to meet yours “I remembered yours so vividly”  
  
“So?”  
  
“I didn't realize you were bonded to Dr. Gaster. And I was so sure you were a human...”  
  
You lean into the fridge, the coldness of the large metal appliance seeping into your back “How could you tell?” you ask hoping your lazy sounding question was covering up the surprise you felt in your chest. Your soul feels uneasy around Run and Chase, but maybe it was because last time you spoke to them they made that cryptic prediction. What was it again? Maybe it was written on one of the notes Run left you. Perhaps you could exercise your comprehension skills by actually reading the notes.  
  
“Well, it's the way you smell” Run admits. Trying to get a read on Run was like trying to read a book in a car. Every now and then you felt as if you could get a feel for her intentions or what she might be thinking. It didn't really make sense for her to be so interested in you, whether she could remember your prediction. Maybe it was the fact she thought you were human initially and that fact brought a novelty to the situation.  
  
“The way I smell?”  
  
“Yeah. When we first met I could smell this note on you, very distinctive. It's the same as Dr. Gaster's magic”  
  
“His... magic?” you were not aware magic had a scent, though come to think of it the last few times Gaster actually used his magic around you, you were either caught up in your own lust or simply not paying attention. Actually come to think of it he doesn't really seem to like to use his magic around you. You knew he could summon those creepy disembodied hands and pull your soul from your chest but he only did either of those thing once.  
  
“Yeah, his magic smells kind of like burning, like... burning leaves. Very nature-like... well, destructive of nature.” Run explains as she turns her back to you. She pulls the rag out of her jeans to polish a small portion of the granite counter. You had no idea granite was a thing, let alone could be made into a counter top. Fuck there was so much you didn't know about the world.  
  
This admission from Run only creates further questions however. Was Run, as you would expect a dog monster to be, just really good at sniffing out magic or did Gaster just use magic a lot in his private life before you came along? Was it something about you that makes him hold back or not use it at all?  
  
“And like... when I first met you, you smelled exactly like him. But I figured it was because he had ejaculated into you before he left, I mean like, he did right” Run looks over her shoulder at you, as if she had not just asked a very invasive question.  
  
Your mouth drops open a little bit, your brows furrowing, not exactly sure if you should answer or if she was just speaking. In a non-committal sort of way you slowly nod. Condensation slowly begins to grow on your glass. You were still dripping his essence when you met Run and Chase.  
  
“Yeah, so I figured that was why and you were just another human he brought back because he likes big, birthing hips on human woman”  
  
This was getting very graphic very quickly and you weren't about to discuss how Gaster liked to grip your hips while fucking you. You're suddenly very aware of how you were leaning on one hip and quickly reposition your weight onto both of your feet equally.  
  
“But then...we had that vision about you and... I've never had one for a human. Most humans don't generate enough magical energy to conjure a vision we can read, let alone one that was powerful enough to posses us” Run's long tail sways from side to side as she works away polishing whatever smudge she saw.  
  
“And the more we came to clean, and the more you were around it's... you still smell the same, like burning leaves, carnations, cedar it's... honestly it's a bit enchanting” Run turns back around, stuffing the rag back into her pocket.  
  
“Humans stink. That's why they douse themselves in perfumes and oils and powders” Run places her hands on her hips, eyes darting as she looks down to the floor, as if to inspect for more dirt, as if she'd not cleaned thoroughly enough the first time. The house is absolutely spotless as far as you can tell. Not a chair out of place, not a surface undusted, not a single coat hanger facing the wrong way. Run and Chase are incredibly thorough.  
  
“So when you smelled like Dr. Gaster without him leaving his, uh...seed in you, I knew you were bonded. When monsters bond they take on a lot of similar traits, I guess like humans do, but on a much more intimate level I guess if that makes sense”  
  
You shift uncomfortably. You wish you could be back in bed, hiding away in Gaster's office, wrapped around the toilet vomitting, anywhere but here right now. The warmth emanating from Run since disappeared, you can't get a read of any sort off her at all anymore.  
  
“You smell lovely, enchanting... like... you've always smelled like this” Run's snout remains pointed down while her large yellow eyes look up into yours.  
  
“You're a witch”  
  
Your heart thumps loudly in your ear. You raise the glass to your lips to take another sip of your tart drink. The sharp pinch of acid on your tongue only momentarily halts the pinch of fear in your soul. You didn't realize humans and half-breeds and monsters could smell so differently that dog monsters could sniff it out.  
  
“I... yeah” you look away into the dining room. A vision of when Gaster fucked you from behind while your bare breasts slid along the tea-soaked table enters your mind before quickly disappearing. A thigh muscle twitches.  
  
It's been a very long time since the two of you had been together in that way, over a month now. Of course you felt the almost overwhelming urge to climb on top of him, you felt your soul pulling his into you, you felt the undeniable sexual tension, you've heard him softly moaning your name from behind his closed office door on occasion when your moping brought you into the living room. You've considered opening your legs to him on more than one occasion since taking up residence in his home, but you couldn't bring yourself to let him in like that, not when the pain in your heart was so great.  
  
A soft chuckle, turning into a giggle and further yet into a laugh. You look back over to Run who is almost beside herself in a fit, a small trickle of blood dripping out her nostril as it had before when you first met. You press yourself harder into the fridge but it pushes you back.  
  
“I wanna see” Run takes a step toward you. She's probably referring to the odd stain on your sternum. Your grip on your glass tightens. Preemptively your other hand pulls down the front of your shirt.  
  
“No”  
  
“I... just wanna see” another step. Your soul is telling you to run, but you firmly stand your ground. You do not finch as Run approaches you closer and closer. Bleach radiates off her as she grasps the wrist gripping your shirt. You pull back. She slide her thumb under your fingers, freeing your shirt from your grip.  
  
“Run what the fuck”  
  
Run remains silent, eyes locked on your hand. It seems every time you interact with these monster you find yourself pressed up against something trying to get away.  
  
With some force Run flips your hand, turning your scars upward. You jerk your hand back but her grip tightens as she lowers her face and forces your wrist upward to almost meet her nose. The air around your wrist shuffles as Run sniffs. Your muscles loosen. What in the actual hell is she doing sniffing your wrist? What was there to gain by doing this.  
  
A soft gasp, another sniff.  
  
“Your scar smells like flowers”  
  
“Run let go of my wris-”  
  
“OH FUck, Run” Chase huffs exasperatedly, appearing in the door frame. You hadn't even heard her scamper down the stairs.  
  
\--  
  
Chase practically forced Run out of the house, apologizing profusely. Seems they take turns being weird to you. Maybe Run was just fucking with you. In the short time you've known here you didn't really peg her, either of them, as jokers. Honestly though you weren't sure what you thought of them, other than, well, weird.  
  
The door slams, shaking the house. The noise of their car door slamming and the engine springing to life sound so far away as you stand, confused in the foyer. Run wouldn't let go of your wrist as Chase pulled her through the kitchen, foyer and out the door while waving good bye to you. Chase had to pry each of Run's fingers from your wrist before she was actually let go.  
  
You rub your left wrist. The indents where Run's claws dug into you dot your skin like tiny craters. Maybe you should read those notes that has been piling up on your vanity.  
  
You bring your wrist to your nose and give it a quick sniff. You prepare to identify just which flower it was your wrist supposedly smelled like but it just smells like your wrist. You sniff again, and again it's just you. You don't smell like anything that you can discern.  
  
Of course Run and Chase are sensitive to smells, but it strikes you odd that they themselves always smell so strongly of bleach. Doesn't that bother them? Being magical beings, do they have the ability to smell scents from different planes of existence? From the past? The future?  
  
_Ring-ring_  
  
Your train of thought is severed. You look up and lock your eyes on the phone. Should you answer that? Technically, you guess, you live here. People call for you here, but are you allowed to answer? It still feels so wrong. You approach the phone slowly.  
  
_Ring-ring  
  
_ Your feet carry you a little faster until. You take a breath in. This was silly, of course you could answer it.  
  
_Ring-ring_  
  
But what if you're not supposed to. It's not like you're Gaster's girlfriend or lover or anything. You're just bonded. You don't have sex because you want to, you're compelled to.  
  
_Ring-ring_  
  
Well, right?  
  
_Ring-ring  
_  
Taking a chance you reach out and lift up the receiver.  
  
“H-hello? Uh, Gaster residence” you add on that last part as something of an afterthought.  
  
“Oh you actually answered” It's Gaster.  
  
“Was I not supposed to?”  
  
“Well, of course you live there”  
  
“Oh” you feel exceptionally silly.  
  
“I have a request of you”  
  
“A request?” you begin twirling your finger around the cord. Everything about Gaster seems so formal, he's a lot more uptight than you had originally guessed. Maybe it's when he's around Lisa he's more relaxed. Hell, being around Lisa yourself makes _you_ feel more relaxed and you've been nothing but tense since the incident.  
  
“Yes. Please be showered and dressed... fairly nicely. I'm taking you out”  
  
You roll your eyes, tilting your head back “Please don't” you plead. That was the last thing you wanted.  
  
“I have to, you're...” Gaster falls silent.  
  
You fall silent too.  
  
“... you're my mate”  
  
\--  
  
_I have to, you're my mate_  
  
Those words struck a cord within you. Wasn't it bad enough that you were already bonded to this monster but now you're also something he has to keep entertained out of obligation? Now you're a burden, another responsibility heaped upon his shoulders. Worse, it's for your birthday. Your birthday isn't important, it's just another date that reminds you you're a step closer to your impending death. Further more, why were you actually shaving your legs for this.  
  
Starting at your feet in the mirror, you look yourself up. A month of treating yourself so poorly was wearing on you, hard. Your skin is dry, your hips are flat, your hair was falling out, even your breasts don't seem as perky, though that could easily be because you're slouching. Not to mention all the hair you've been growing and not attending to. Your fingers on your free hand make their way to your pubic hair, it hasn't been this long in a very long time. You pat the hair, mildly amused. Would it be in base taste to groom your entire body?  
  
You pull the safety razor up your calf, finishing the last bit of your leg. Were you expecting something to happen? Was he?  
  
Your reflection in the full length mirror stares back at you as you stare into the odd stain on your chest. If you didn't know any better you'd say it almost looks like a heart. You wonder if Gaster's stain looks like a heart too.  
  
Gaster. Wing Dings Gaster. Your fate bonded mate, the monster who so graciously took you into his home after you refused to go back to your apartment. The monster who went back, Lisa at his side, and gathered anything and everything you might have needed or wanted. The monster who dealt with the breaking of your lease by apparently just throwing money at your old landlord if Lisa was to believed. The monster who, despite having the same lust-inducing chemical pumping through his veins as you hadn't even so much as touched your hand without your say so.  
  
Really, you couldn't have been bonded to a better monster in your opinion. He was so quick to let you into his home and his life. So quick to abandon his reading to let you rest your head on his lap as you cried, to let you press your face into his chest as you sobbed at night, to cancel his plans to listen to you prattle on about how unfair the situation was and 'woe is me', and would not kiss you in the morning as you so felt his soul tugging at him to comfort his mate.  
  
If only you loved him back.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iX1a3JngmpI
> 
> Also you can find me at http://pretty-wiccan-thing.tumblr.com/ I like to chat and I always follow back (with my main lmao)


	17. RAVENOUS I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gaster is a bit dramatic but is a pretty cool guy tbh.

_Tuesday, October 9_ _th_ _1979_  
  
  
Getting out of the house is lovely. Getting dressed up in a little black dress with your little black nylons, and your little black high heels is very lovely. For the first time in a very long time you feel lovely, almost human.  
  
Sorry not human, half-breed? You felt almost okay with yourself was the point. Even the face looking back at you in the mirror doesn't look like your mother anymore, scolding you for ignoring her warnings. You finally look like you again.  
  
Despite your outward appearance, inside a war is raging between an anxious mess of a little girl who misses her mommy, a furious woman who can't understand why the universe was throwing all of these things at her at once, a melancholy entrepreneur who let her business fail, a shit friend who hasn't even looked at Lisa's bridesmaid dress in over a month, and a reluctant mate bonded to a monster you hardly even know. Yet despite all these feelings somewhere deep inside was the old you, the you who knew who she was. She's scared and unsure of her future but she's still there.  
  
Your eyebrows, your cheeks, your eyes, your lips, your nose, your chin, your cheek bones. It's still you.  
  
And now _you_ need to make a plan.“Make a plan! Make a plan! Make a plan!” your mother's mantra for everything. You must admit it's proactive and certainly better than sitting around moping. You've spent the better part of a month moping around doing nothing, wasting your time and Gaster's time. You need to take back your destiny. You're not simply a creature to be bonded, betrothed, bred, and finally bereaved. You don't exactly have a set plan for your life, but that certainly isn't it.  
  
You will take your destiny back. He didn't take it on purpose, but you will take it back from him.  
  
Gaster.  
  
Wing Dings Gaster. What a guy. Bonded to you by fate, kind to you by choice.  
  
Maybe.  
  
He did tell you again and again “I have to, you're my mate” after you protested his kindness. He said it when he invited you to cry in his arms, when he guided you into his office so you could release all of the pent up complaining you had within you, when he held you when you woke up crying in the middle of the night even though he had to be up early to attend a lecture, he even said it when he cancelled on a meeting when he found out you'd not put anything in your body in over 24 hours. He's kinder than you initially thought, even if it is only because he's your mate.  
  
If the month of absolutely saint-like patience he'd shown you wasn't a testament to his kindness, certainly the ring he placed on your finger while you were attempting to do something with your makeup was.  
  
He'd caught you off guard, demanding one of your hands while you attempted to put lipstick on. Eyes still fixed on your newly rediscovered sense of self in the mirror you gave him your left hand to hold in his. As you carefully glide the muted red over your bottom lip you felt something glide over your ring finger. Cold, gold, and a little heavy. You paused, and looked up at him with a cocked brow. He'd placed a ring on your finger.  
  
For the longest second, or the shortest eternity, your heart stopped.  
  
“Are you asking me to marry you? Like, human marry you?”  
  
“I... what?”  
  
“Because we're already bonded I think that's as close in monster culture as it gets”  
  
“It's... for your birthday. Is... this not something you would like?”  
  
“Oh! No I mean you just sorta...” you lifted your hand up to examine the ring he placed on your hand “...I mean you put it on my ring finger-”  
  
“Is that not where rings go?”  
  
He had you there.  
  
\--  
  
The drive is quiet. Neither of you make a single noise, save for a few curse words uttered by Gaster followed by something to the effect of 'why can't people just learn to drive'. It feels as if the silence should be uncomfortable but it isn't. The light from the streetlights seems to find the diamond on your finger to project tiny shards of colour against your body, the white leather interior of Gaster's car, and of course Gaster himself.  
  
It really does look like the type of ring someone would give to their lover to signify their joining together as one, in human culture anyway. A rather large diamond with two smaller diamonds on either side situation on a brilliant gold band. You tried to move it to your pointer finger but it refused to stay put, forcing you to place it back on your ring finger. Sure you could have moved it to your right hand but that seems kind of rude, seeing as how he placed it on your left hand.  
  
Or at least that's what you told yourself.  
  
But the notion of an engagement was foolishness. Such things were not very common in most monster cultures. Even still this isn't something you would want, why would you? You were conditioned to aspire to marriage, being a wife was the highest honour according to your mother. But maybe it isn't something you would want anyway. Now that you're bound to a monster is that what marriage is like? Burning pain while apart, silent car rides, silent resentment? Well, perhaps if you were married it would be to someone you actually loved it could be enjoyable.  
  
You pull your eyes away from the ring on your finger to look to Gaster. You soul feels warm at it's core. He must be deep in thought.  
  
Over the little while of being bound to the Doctor, you've begun to learn a bit more about what Gaster's soul is doing when it's doing certain things inside yours. A fluttering feeling is excitement, a tug means he wants your attention, a warm sensation is a deep thought, a burning, aching feeling means... well, you feel that between your legs too.  
  
Your soul has been doing a lot of burning and aching lately.  
  
Gaster's hands seem to dance over the steering wheel. His chest rises and falls with every breath he takes. You press back into the leather seat. It's getting sort of late, it was almost 8:30 when you actually left the house, where exactly was he taki- your soul is really gaining heat quickly. You tap your chest, are you sick? Are you dying? Everything feels so hot an-  
  
“(Y/N) I love you” Gaster blurts out in an uncharacteristic fashion. Everything Gaster did was so calculated and precise, for him to say something so bold and unsure was...  
  
...horrifying.  
  
“...excuse me” you sit up, wondering if you had in fact misheard what he said. Maybe he actually said I “glove” you. I mean, it was unlikely but maybe.  
  
“I love you...” he repeats with more conviction, proving your thought wrong. He pulls his eyes from the road to you “...(Y/N) I love you” his voice still strong with certainty but juxtaposed with a shaking fear of what you would say.  
  
This is so bizarre. This isn't like him or rather this isn't like the facade he puts up in his day to day life. Perhaps _this_ is what marriage is like, seeing the side of your mate no one else sees.  
  
Eyes wide you look back out to the road pressing your back firm to the leather seat. Your cheeks feel flushed, they are flushed. This is certainly a development.  
  
What are you even supposed to say when someone opens up like this? Was Gaster not supposed to have the capacity to love? Or, rather that's what Run and Chase told you but maybe they were wrong. Well, clearly they were wrong. The gaze from you mate settling on your face told you they had no idea what the hell they were taking about. Or maybe since your souls bonded Gaster was taking on some of the softenss of your soul that resided within his. But you weren't exactly capable of love either. You never felt the sting, only the burning ache of lust.  
  
Your chest feels warm, so sickeningly warm. Is this... love? Isn't love supposed to be butterflies in your stomach and your head in the clouds? Isn't it supposed to be requited?  
  
How lovely it would be if you could turn to him and say _“Oh Dr. Gaster you've made me the happiest girl in all the land I love you too”._ And then you kiss him. And then he asks you to marry him. And then you parade your massive ring around the conferences and galas he takes you to. And then you get married in a church in front of all your friends and family. And then you raise your 2.5 children in a house with a white picket fence. And then you fucking die surrounded by your kids, grand kids, and husband. Or some other lovely bullshit.  
  
You quickly glance down. The concealer you used to attempt to cover the scars on your wrists is almost wiped away completely. For the quickest moment you feel the strong desire to open them back up. Anything to escape Gaster's admission of his love for you, hanging thick and fearful in the air waiting for your response.  
  
But you have no response, save for the very unromantic question sitting on the tip of your tongue.  
  
“....why?”  
  
Gaster hits the break, maybe a bit too hard. The seat belt across your chest separates your breasts and digs into the stain on your chest. The stain stings and you instinctively bring your hand to press it, attempting to bring any sort of relief. Glancing out the window you see you're on a side street of some kind.  
  
A low huff from Gaster tells you this is a stupid question. He looks to you, eyes narrowed.

  
“I'll show you"  
  
\--  
  
Perhaps a bit more aggressively than needed Gaster drives you to an overlook in the outskirts of the city.  
  
“Get out” he hisses.  
  
You look out into the parking lot. You're the only ones here.  
  
“Gaster I don't wa-”  
  
“Get. Out”  
  
You walk like a baby deer on the loose gravel with your high heels. It's dark, it's cold, you can't run without abandoning your shoes, and you're miles from the city anyway. Maybe this is the part where you finally die.  
  
But at least the view is spectacular.  
  
You've lived in Seattle all your life as far as you remember and you never even knew this overlook of the city was here... wherever here was. The city glows like a warm beacon, but the waning moon seems to even dwarf the man made light. The city noise isn't even audible from this spot, only the rustling of the wind through the trees and the sound of the engine dying as Gaster turns the car off, letting the darkness envelope you.  
  
The cool wind nips at your cheeks, reminding you of the incoming winter. A pair of hands lands on your shoulders, but you can clearly hear the car door slamming shut.  
  
Your heart skips a quick beat. His magic.  
  
“(Y/N)”  
  
The disembodied hands fade away as Gaster takes his place by your side. Your soul is burning and tugs at you to turn to him. He's already facing you.  
  
“Okay, the city is gorgeous. Why else did you bring me here?” You ask, brows slightly narrowed. Gaster doesn't bother to answer, instead raising a hand to your sternum. You take a shallow breath as you admire the moonlight shining off Gaster's pointed cheek bone before that same shallow breath is stolen from your lungs and your eyes slam shut.  
  
You've felt this before, when you were laying flat on your back the first day you came to Gaster's home. That familiar ache in your chest, the burn in your sternum as your soul is pulled from your body. A pathetic whimper dribbles from your painted lips as you feel your very soul freeze. He's doing something else to you.  
  
Your knees begin to shake as you stumble backward, then forward. Two disembodied hands fabricate on either side of you to force you upright, clutching your biceps tightly.  
  
Hollow.  
Bare.  
Useless.  
Void.  
Nothing.  
Empty.  
Empty, empty, empty.  
  
You struggle to catch your breath. You struggle to open your eyes. You struggle to restrain yourself from hurling yourself off the overlook. Thankfully, the hands keep you steady.  
  
Slowly Gaster comes back into your view. Your soul floats above his hand. Small, shiny, white, sterile, detached, ugly, empty.  
  
Empty, empty, empty.  
  
Your chest shivers, tears well up in your eyes, “G...Gaster” is all you can manage. Everything bad you've ever felt seems to be hitting you all at once. Sadness, loneliness, hopelessness, uselessness, physical pain.  
  
“Look”  
  
Gaster raises your soul up to the moon. The splotch where Gaster's soul had taken up residence within yours is... it's gone. Your soul is hollow in the middle. The white of the moon filling the emptiness with it's light, as if to complete your soul with your own colour.  
  
“I... don't... understand” you groan, the lump in your throat slowing your speech. Your knees give out and only Gaster's extra hands hold you up. Tears stream down your hot reddened cheeks. Everything hurts.  
  
“This is what I want to do for you, (Y/N)” Gaster raises his other hand, his own black splotch of a soul, floating just above his hollow palm.  
  
“(Y/N), I have never felt this... sting of love until you walked into my life. I don't know if it's because our souls have taken up within one another, or if this is simply a chemical reaction from laying together, or... if it is destiny. But I love you. I love the way your eyes light up my soul, the way you sing off key, the way you so easily create something from a bolt of simple cloth, your laugh, your sorrow... and I feel as though you complete me.” The wind catches his leather overcoat. It seemingly floats around his hips.  
  
“But I am not a foolish man” He glances off toward the moon sitting above the city, as if trying to recall an important meeting or far off errand he'd forgotten to run.  
  
“I know you don't return my feelings. I don't know if you ever could.” Gaster brings his hands together, turning his attention back to your shivering, weak form. The disembodied hands slowly lower you to your knees. The bite of the gravel embraces your knees, then the palms of your hands as you balance your weight between your limbs, shaking.  
  
All at once, the screaming in your empty chest is gone. The uselessness, the helplessness. It's gone. It's all gone. You're numb.  
  
Tears still drip down your cheeks as you look up to Gaster, his attention turned back to your soul and his soul fragment, slowly pushing the two back together. The filaments of white and black seamlessly intertwine, pulling themselves back together. Your white soul holds his black splotch, invading you at your core.  
  
In a way, you're complete again.  
  
“I want to free you, (Y/N)”  
  
With your souls pieced back together, it slowly floats back to you. A warm fullness entering through your sternum then melting throughout your body. If you let your eyes fall closed you could easily sleep.  
  
“I want to free you... from me”  
  
“G...Gast...”  
  
“(Y/N) I want you to write your own destiny. I want to teach you to do to me what I've done to you” Gaster squats before you, slipping his hands beneath your arms to bring you back to your feet.  
  
“I want to teach you how to break a soul bond”  
  
Gaster's words ring through your head again, and again, and again. It's going to happen. He's going to free you. Your destiny is going to be yours to write, your life will be yours. Your heart races, your soul shivers in anticipation.  
  
“I... Gaster I...” your forehead rests on his chest, hands flop uselessly at your side.  
  
But you have no more words.  
  
\--  
  
Your body is warm, burning, aching, practically aflame, as you sit silently in the car looking at Gaster as he leans against the hood of the car, lit cigarette in hand as he stares off into the moon. The chill was too much for you, especially with tears staining your cheeks. But Gaster's soul being forced from yours, then back together had seemingly cause your body to curiously come back to life.  
  
You press your thighs together. Gaster's cigarette was taking such a long time to burn. So painfully slow. He must know you're burning too, your soul was certainly burning within his. His silhouette against the moon reminds you a little bit of a tree. A slim, solid trunk, long arms branching off into large hands and elongated fingers. The moon peeks through the holes in his hands as he raises the cigarette to his mouth.  
  
You're ready. It didn't matter how long it takes, even for the chance to have your destiny back you'd happily walk through miles of broken glass. Anything, to sit at the helm of your own destiny once more. Or perhaps for the first time in your life, now that your mother was gone.  
  
But for tonight you've made up your mind.   
  
You can feel your own slickness gathering between your thighs  as you watch Gaster turn his head to look at you. You feel drunk and hungry with desire. You're reminded of the first time Gaster sunk himself within you. How wonderful it felt each time he forced your walls apart and rammed against your deepest parts. How loudly you'd moaned and how carnal and animalistic his groans are.  
  
Gaster flicks the rest of his cigarette to the parking lot, exhaling a cloud of smoke before adjusting his overcoat and getting back into the car. “I'm sure they've given away our reservation by now, did you want to go anywhere else?” He asks, sticking the key into the ignition.  
  
“Home” you reply.   
  
“Home?”  
  
“Yes”  
  
“Aren't you hungry?”  
  
Eyes fixated on the moon, your hand finds Gaster's thigh. A light gasp escapes him as he looks to you with surprise. You look back to him, expression unchanging save for curl at the end of your lips.  
  
“Ravenous.”  
  


 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> UUUHHH why did that take so long to write idk I'm very tired.  
> I started some new meds I hope this all makes sense I'm sorry friends x_x
> 
> http://pretty-wiccan-thing.tumblr.com/  
> for updates and notes and random shit. Also I follow back (with my main because who has time to make like two different tumblrs pffftttt). I also like to chat!


	18. RAVENOUS II (*)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You can literally skip this chapter it's just smut lmao

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is literally just road head until a tiny little bit at the end of the chapter.  
> Also this was going to be longer but I'm breaking it up into 2 chapters for uh, reasons.

_Tuesday October 9_ _th_ _1979, or maybe Wednesday October 10_ _th_ _1979  
  
_ Gaster considered looking to other creatures to satisfy his carnal lust. Certainly it was a tricky subject; you were bonded but were you also exclusive? It was a conversation Gaster wanted to approach with you time and time again but the timing always seemed inappropriate, especially since you were in mourning.  
  
Never since reaching maturity had he been without another creature to lay with for so long. He knew all the right things to do, all the right things to say, to enchant a lover to his bed. He could read other creatures like an open book. He'd simply select the one that matched whatever suited his fancy for that evening; a coworker, a lone monster at the bar, a young, naive missionary who would come tapping at his door, and as much as he considered it but never acted on it he knew he could have Lisa if he ever truly wanted.  
  
But no one else seemed appealing. No men or women, no humans or monsters. Only you.  
  
And here you are. Gaster's hands grip the steering wheel with a perverse hold, his jaw trembling, mouth salivating, almost as much as yours.   
  
Ravenous.  
  
So ravenous.  
  
You're not a blowjob queen, you never were. You never enjoyed going down on anyone, you hated how it made you feel, and you didn't get anything out of it. It was disgusting and you just ended up with a mouthful of semen and a disappointed lover who didn't understand why you'd rather spit. But it seems as if everything you thought you were is betrayed as your own arousal drips through your panties. This car ride is taking forever, but you don't mind. You found a way to pass the time.  
  
You had not realized just how hungry for Gaster you were until taste of your mate graces your tongue for the first time in a long time. It feels like the first time as your tongue dances up the length of Gaster's cock as you hold it firmly in place, leaving a thick trail of saliva. Everything inside you told you that you had to wait.  
  
But you couldn't.  
  
As much as he would like to gaze down into your eyes or drop his head back as you work on him, he couldn't. Every little moan that slips past your lips calls his eyes to look down at his mate. Sheer determination keeps his eyes on the road. A tree, another tree, a house; all he could do to restrain himself was to focus on the road.  
  
Of course you were not the first creature to go down on him, not even the first to go down on him in this very car. There is literally nothing you could do that he had not already experienced before. But this feels different, his entire body feels as if it's on fire. Every nerve feels alive with electricity, it feels...  
  
incredible.  
  
Maybe it's the fact that it's been almost a month since any part of your touched him in that way or maybe it's the fact that you are bonded to each other makes everything just feel so...  
  
incredible.  
  
Every time you drag your tongue up and down his length a shudder pulses through Gaster's chest, you can feel it resonating in his soul and in turn, within yours. Every lick, every swirl of your tongue, every bit of saliva that drips from your lips you feel pulsating in your souls. The seat belt over your hips tries to force you back up, but you continue to pull away. The little bit of precum you could taste at the head of Gaster's cock only encourages you further.  
  
He's delicious, subtle, like cinnamon. He's unlike anything you've ever tasted. A far cry from the first time you went down on him and he tasted like any other man you've had in your mouth. Is this something he can control with his magic or is this a perk of being bonded? No no if it was something he could control he would probably make it taste like this all the time.   
  
Your eyes fall shut as a hand lands on your thigh. Both of Gaster's true hands remain on the steering wheel with a firm grip. His seldom seen magic conjured in a false hand sparks against your thigh as it slowly slides towards your wetness.  
  
The stiffness against your tongue and the heat against the back of your throat demand more and you're more than willing to give. You force Gaster's cock further into your mouth, adjusting your head until the head of his cock slides into your throat.  
  
Gaster gasps, almost choking on his own breath. The sensation of his cock actually finding it's way into your throat was almost enough to cause him release right then and there. “(Y.../N)” he stammers, speeding the car up slightly. Thankfully, this back road seems to be more or less empty, save for the occasional car heading in the opposite direction.  
  
The false hand on your thigh brushes against your clothed crotch, eliciting a moan. Your stomach feels tight, your walls flutter in excitement, and tears well in your eyes from the pressure of both his cock so deep within your throat and his fingers on your core. There was something else at play here, there was no way a light brush against you would be enough to almost bring you to your own release. But right now that didn't really matter.  
  
You force yourself down on Gaster's cock further before pulling away, and then again, and then again, and then again. You can't breathe, spit is escaping the corners of your mouth and the sounds you're making, could you hear them, would drive you to hide your face. Gaster's fingers press harder into your crotch, quickly finding your clit. Your hips buck against his fingers. Hell you could cum right now.  
  
You continue your actions, bobbing your head, pulling away very slightly to take in a breath, then resuming. You want him to know you're sorry for being so unavailable, you want him to know you're sorry, you want him to like you...  
  
You want him to love you.  
  
You pause, mouth at the base of Gaster's pelvis, his false hand continues stroking your wetness through your nylons. Did you really just have that thought? A burning in your chest and for once it's your soul. Gaster's delicate moan tells you he feels it too, or maybe it's the fact he's hip deep in your throat.   
  
But something drives you to shrug the thought away from your mind and continue. You'd revisit _that_ perverse thought later.  
  
“(Y/N) I... I don't want you to stop but... you need to stop” the pain in Gaster's voice is loud and clear as it cuts through the relative silence and the deviant noises coming from you. His false hand disappears and with a groan you're left wanting. Your cheeks are bright red, your lipstick is half smudged against your face and smeared on Gaster's pelvis. You don't want to stop but you'll do anything he tells you.  
  
With your lips firmly locked around the girth of Gaster's cock, you pull yourself off him, slowly, letting your tongue run along the underside. A trail of spit connecting your lips to Gaster's cock shamelessly hangs for a moment before disconnecting.   
  
“Fuck fuck fuck” in something of a rush Gaster wiggles his way out of his overcoat. You let the seat belt pull you back up into a sitting position, head rushing, heart racing, mouth and chin covered in spit and lipstick. Your eyes sting but rubbing them only forces the mascara melting off your lashes further into your eyes.   
  
Throwing his coat over his lap, Gaster begins to stop the car. You're not sure where you are now, but it seems brighter. You lower your hands to see Gaster rolling the window down to speak to someone. It's the gates to his neighbourhood or well, your neighbourhood now too you suppose. You keep forgetting you live together.  
  
“Dr. Gaster it's so late! What are you and (Y/N) doing out and about?” you hear the security guard exclaim. What time was it exactly? How did the security guard know your name?  
  
Gaster chuckles, looking to you briefly, then back to the security guard, “just out for evening for the mate's birthday--”  
  
You lose interest in the conversation pretty quickly and retreat back into your head, pushing yourself back into the leather seat, quickly wiping the spit from your chin. Now that you've had a second to breath something claws it's way back into your head.  
  
 _You want him to love you_  
  
  
  
  
  
  


 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I've been sick with the flu and worse yet been struck with like 2 weeks of writers block. I blame not getting a flu shot + working in a very small office that doesn't have sick days and err' one been sick. 
> 
> The first half of this chapter came really quickly (kek) but the second part is really dragging so I figured I'd post what I have right now and finish the second half in a bit. So technically what I had planned for chapter 19 is going to be in chapter 20, 20 is gonna be 21 and etc. But w/e. I feel like splitting this chapter into two parts is going to allow me a little more freedom to explore where I left off in a bit more detail which is cool.
> 
> I also feel like I'm trying to explore a little bit more with my writing style which is kind of throwing this fic in a bit of a weird direction I wasn't expecting. University kind of scared me away from using adverbs and adjectives BUT I'm trying to add them back in. The flow of this fic is not v good tbh. I'll probably rewrite this in the future to make more sense.
> 
> UUHH also if you were enjoying the Season of the Witch playlist on 8tracks but don't wanna deal with the listening restrictions you can find it here too! https://playmoss.com/en/daisywitch/playlist/season-of-the-witch   
> (plus some other playlists I put together. My dedicated Gaster playlist has Bjork on it and I love it)
> 
> http://pretty-wiccan-thing.tumblr.com/ if you'd like to tell me to my face some things. Or just chat at me whenever I like that too.
> 
> Hopefully this will be the end of weeks at a time without an update sorry~~!


	19. RAVENOUS III (*)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gaster is chatty and you're a weiner.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lmao this is smut af

RAVENOUS III (*)  
  
_Tuesday October 9_ _th_ _1979, or maybe Wednesday October 10_ _th_ _1979_  
  
A shiver overtakes your body. Why on earth would you be craving Gaster's love?  
  
You know he loves you, because, to your disdain and confusion, he told you. He showed you. You _feel_ it, hell you've _felt_ it for some time. In his gaze, his words, his actions, in the bond you shared. You would have had to have been stupid to not see it. Or preoccupied.  
  
Like... preoccupied with mourning.  
  
But the mourning feels so far away. Your sadness, your anger, even your confusion feels as though they are the completely vanquished from your mind. You only want Gaster. You want to be near him, under him, just... with him. You want to be his.  
  
But, you already are? You still don't know much about soul bonds, except maybe a better understanding of what happened on a magical level but how exactly it manifests seems to be an entirely different beast.  
  
But here you sit and you crave it. His love, his adoration, his dick rammed deep inside you. You don't love him back, of course, but something inside you wants you to please him, wants you to make him love you or rather, continue to love you. This feels so fucked up.  
  
Your eyes quickly glance down to your hand. That ring sits gracefully upon your finger, almost as a physical representation of his love. You swallow hard, pressing your thighs tightly together. What's happening to you? This isn't you. Who are you.  
  
The two man share a laugh. Your heart thumps in your chest, a twitch in your eye, your mouth is still salivating from the taste of Gaster in your mouth, and you need more.  
  
A shake reverberates through your form from the cold air sneaking in through the open window as you listen to the cadence of the two men. High and quick at the apex of the conversation, low and deep at the bottom. You run your tongue along your palate, searching for any taste of him you may have missed in your mouth.  
  
It was taking everything within you to not pull Gaster's overcoat off his lap and place your mouth back over his cock. This conversation is taking too long.  
  
“Well, have a good night Doctor, Ma'am”  
  
_Finally_  
  
\--  
  
Walking into the house you're both silent.  
  
You quietly remove your heels while Gaster pulls a hanger out of the closet to hang his overcoat.  
  
“I don't know if it's just that you're a talented creature or the fact that we're bonded but...” Gaster smiles, sliding the coat down over his arms, removing one arm and then the other “I should have kept driving but I fear I may have crashed the car” he hangs his coat in the closet, before removing his shoes. Still facing the closet, he reaches his arms over his head in a stretch.  
  
Gaster took you to the cliff on the outskirts to view the city, partially because it's quiet, but mainly because that's his favourite spot. A spot he enjoys visiting to gain perspective, clarity. He brought his sons there anytime he needed to discuss something with them. For Papyrus it was the birds and the bees. For Sans it was to discuss his reasons for creating the two of them, to perhaps demand things of his son he shouldn't have, to argue away from Papyrus.  
  
It was a spot he considered taking his own life more than once. _You've already had 800 years, what difference could another 200 or 300 years make.?_ But always drew back.  
  
“Well, (Y/N) should w-” Gaster asks as he hangs his coat up, looking over his shoulder to you and falls silent before finishing his question.  
  
You stand before him, your clothes lay in pile around your feet. Gaster's gaze run over your entire body, top to bottom, before landing on the glowing stain on your chest. Your legs shake, your jaw trembles. Struggling to pull air into your lungs you take an unsure step towards your mate. As your legs part your own arousal runs down your leg in a single, slick, droplet.  
  
“I... I... I don... don't...” you mumble but your mind is clouding. Denser and denser until you can't think of anything except...  
  
Him. Pleasing him. On your knees for him. Bent over for him. It doesn't matter.  
  
Gaster accepts you into his arms and you press your bare breasts into his torso. You tongue hangs over your bottom lip as your cheeks burn red.  
  
“D...Daddy” is all you can manage.  
  
\--  
  
With Gaster’s weight pinning you to the couch you really had no where to run, though it was not as if you wanted to run, not while his hand had already found it's way up your thigh. Two fingers press firmly to your clit working in small, quick circles, as if you needed help.  
  
Your hips buck against your own will into his touch desperate to feel more of the warm shocks washing over your lower half causing your walls to flutter. With each buck of your hips, with each brush of his fingers, and each approving hiss that escapes him you feel electricity surging up your torso, seemingly gathering below the now glowing stain on your sternum.  
  
Gaster’s fingers spread your obscene amount of wetness over your clit and vulva “say it again” he groans into your ear, desperate to hear you speak.  
  
“Daddy” You mewl, arching your back deeply, pressing your breasts into him.  
  
The rustle of pants being kicked off and dropped to a pile onto the floor sound so far away. The hand between your legs pulls away to your dismay, made clear by your softly disappointed moan. Your back feels as if it’s already stuck to the leather as the slick wetness drips down the curve of your ass.  
  
Your head drops back uselessly as the warmth of Gaster’s cock brushes against your wet lips, ducking in and out of your wetness as he adjusts himself. Your heart, head and breath are already racing as Gaster looms over top of you. One of his real hands rests atop your wrists laying over top of your head, while the other real hand firmly grasps your hip. Your hips are, of course, his favourite part of your body, the way they peek out over top of your shorts, they way they made it almost impossible for you to find a pair of jeans to fit you without alteration, the way they so easily bruised under his fingers. Such a shame you were taking such ill care of yourself that you've nearly lost them.  
  
“Fuck, (Y/N), again” his words roll off his tongue and you shiver. Your walls contract ever so slightly as you drip on to him. You bucks your hips up to try to pull him into you, but he pulls back each time.  
  
“Daddy please!” you whine, tongue half hanging out of your mouth in a perverse display. One of Gaster's hands lands on your breast to circling your nipple, another travels down your stomach, tracing around your belly button, along the top of your hip, down to your sensitive clit. It’s not often Gaster summons extra hands during times such as this. You wonder what made him change his mind.  
  
His fingers resume making those small, quick circles on your clit, sending that lovely shock of pleasure throughout your body. A loud whine escapes you once more as you drop your head to the side. You only want him inside you. “Please fuck me, Daddy, please”  
  
All at once Gaster slides himself into you, his pointy hips stabbing your softness. Your eyes shoot open. The sting of your walls being forced apart caught you off guard and half a scream echos through your chest but is quickly silence when Gaster rams two of his fingers halfway down your throat. Another summoned hand.  


Unable to speak, a firm pinch of your nipple, a large hand gripping your wrists together over your head, pointed nails digging into your hips, and Gaster's cock pressed deeply within your cunt is almost too much to bear. Your eyes fall shut. Your mind is blank, you've gotten what you wanted, but did he? You have to please him. You have to let him know you're his.  
  
Gaster watches as you struggle beneath him, a crocked grin plastered against his face. He almost looks drunk on your surrender. Each cry that finds it's way past the fingers in your mouth, each time you buck your hips, the drool trailing out the side of your mouth, the perverted noises of your wetness, the sweat forming on your brow, your eyes catching his to make sure he is still looking at you creates a collage of depravity that only exists to encourage Gaster to keep going.  
  
With each thrust you lift your hips to meet your mate, groaning against his fingers pumping in and out of your mouth. Even just the taste of his skin is enough to force your eyes to roll back into your head in pleasure. Are you doing enough? You so want to run your fingers down his back but Gaster's hand keeps your wrists firmly pressed into the leather.  
  
Every now and then one of the diamonds on your ring catches against the deep brown leather of the couch, making a soft scraping noise to remind you of who you belong to.  
  
You're his. You're his. You're his! Oh my god, you want for nothing more.  
  
That sickening the pain of Gaster's cock slamming in and out of you and the pleasure of his hands quite literally all over your body was more than enough to push you over the edge. You choke on Gaster's fingers as a powerful orgasm rushes over your body. The lack of air and fingers grinding against your clit. Shocks of pleasure reverberate through your body, your stomach tenses, your cheeks flush a deeper red than they were. Mercifully the summoned hand at your mouth disappears back into the ether, allowing you a loud moan that brings forth tears.  
  
As your walls clamp down against Gaster's throbbing cock, he summons yet another false hand. Standing above your womb, his nails press deeply into your flesh and slowly drag up your stomach to the glowing stain on your sternum. As soon as Gaster's nails dug into the stain you feel a burning, quivering sensation deep within your soul. You gasp for air, but it isn't enough.  
  
You exist in a world only of pleasure. Your mate deep between your legs, your mind clear of anything even remotely unpleasant. Only bliss from the tip of your toes, crawling up your legs, deep within your core, inside your chest, shriving within your arms, emanating from your eyes.  
  
Your hips buck once, twice, again, and again, and again. Gaster's grip on your wrists tightens as a string of obscenities rain from his mouth as he lowers his head to the crock of your neck. His thrusts become quick and sloppy as he chases his own release.  
  
Gaster's full weight presses into you as he thrusts, pinning you into place. Your back is beginning to ache, you can't breathe, you feel bruises forming on your hips and wrists. But you're content, you're his.  
  
Gaster's teeth graze the nape of your neck perhaps a bit rougher than was actually needed, and his hips seem to pierce your skin with each shallow thrust. But it doesn't matter. Whatever he wants to do to you is exactly what you want. A language you don't understand begins to flow out of Gaster's mouth with your name mixed in between as his own climax begins to rise.  
  
“Ga-aah” you want to moan his name, but the pulsating of Gaster's cock cuts the words from your throat. Your lips fall open to speak, but Gaster's mouth lands on yours with such a forceful kiss you forget, for just a second, the predicament of your coupling.  
  
Gaster's tongue wraps around yours as his seed spills within you. Your warm, your walls flutter against his stiffness as you gasp into your mouth. His hips buck in time with yours as he rides through his orgasm. His lips feel like electricity against yours. You wonder what yours feel like against his, or what you taste like on his tongue, feel like under his touch. Do you feel as good to him as he does to you? As his orgasm begins to wane, Gaster pulls his lips from yours, a light pant escaping his lips.  
  
But you know your mate isn't done. Neither are you. Gaster releases your wrists. In your daze you hardly feel Gaster pull himself out of you. Like a limp ragdoll, Gaster pulls you into his lap, placing your legs on either side of his hips. You're finally face to face.  
  
“(Y/N)” his voice calls you back to this plane of existence and his hands landing on your hips pulls you back firmly to reality. A mixture of his seed and your own slickness drips down your thighs onto his. Gaster gently guides your hips until his slick cock slips back between your soaked lips. Without any encouragement you lower yourself down and take him inside you fully. He fills you completely.  
  
“(Y/N), I love you” Gaster groans, letting his eyes close. Your hips begin to move almost of their own volition. You press your chest into his and tuck your face into the crook neck. Your fingers lace together around his shoulders. The words he longs for sit at the tip of your tongue. You don't want to say it. You don't even want to plan the seed of hope within him but your soul screams at you to just give him what he wants. So you do.  
  
“I love you too” You whisper back.  
  
You don't. He knows you don't. But you know that's what he wants to hear.  
  
You can feign love for one night.  
  


 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was v fun to write.  
> So like, possibly in the near future I may be going back to college to become an accountant (lmao what) because the job market is super fucked I mean like my dad dropped out of highschool and still got to work for a huge power company like right away and make a bunch of dongs anD I WORKED FOR THIS SAME COMPANY FOR 2 FUCKING SUMMERS AND CAN'T EVEN GET A CALL BACK EVEN THO I HAVE A UNIVERSITY DEGREE AND A COLLEGE DIPLOMA AND I SITLL HAVE TO HAVE A FUCKING ROOMMATE AND I'M PUSHING 30 WHY DON'T I OWN MY OWN HOUSE YET WHAT THE FUC UHEGIESHLUIEOHWRFIOeroghO@RU#_&@H:ALEfWH  
> cough  
> In sum I'm bitter.  
> So if I do go back to college updates will be few and far between but I'll for sure give y'all a heads up and try to leave longer updates when I actually do.  
> Also I'm not sick anymore and even got to gym it up and I forgot how much I love doing squats and uh, how many plot points I come up with while doing said squats. Working on da butt and da plot at da same time aw yis.
> 
> Anyway if you want more frequent updates and shit don't forget to check me out at http://pretty-wiccan-thing.tumblr.com/ ! I sometimes draw Gaster all weird and usually nakedish and I always follow back (but with my main lmao)


	20. INCULCATE I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Good god (Y/N)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mild (*) but it's not graphic?? Mainly implied I guess haha.

_Thursday October 11_ _th_ _1979_  
  
To say you were sore to the point of tears would have been an understatement. Your abdomen aches, bruises pepper your hips. It took all of the determination within you to pull yourself out of bed before 7am, but Gaster's offer of a shared shower made the transition from sleep to wake that much easier. Even though most of your body was saying no your soul and aching cunt were screaming yes.  
  
_God Yes!_  
  
You reached your 3 rd orgasm of the morning bent over the bed in the midst of trying to put clothes on. Evidently a mid-length navy skirt and a white t-shirt was enough to make Gaster want to bend you over and risk running behind schedule. Not that you were complaining, you're fucking insatiable. No matter how many times Gaster made you reach your peak the evening before or this morning, or how many times he came inside you, or how many bruises he left on your skin you want more.  
  
But unfortunately there's no time for more, to your dismay.  
  
To further your dismay your favourite jean jacket is gone. With a sour look on your face you get into Gaster's car wearing a black cardigan with a red windbreaker jacket over it. You feel like a nerd, which all things considered is appropriate since you were going to be spending most of the day in Gaster's office.  
  
Gaster had suggested you come with him to work so you're not moping around the house, and to avoid speaking to Run and Chase. Honestly though you wouldn't mind seeing Run and Chase. Now that you were sort of pulled out of your state of mourning, maybe you would actually enjoy their company. Maybe you could actually read the notes Run left you. Maybe you could actually make some friends.  
  
But your mate told you to come with him, so of course you're going with him.  
  
You'll go wherever he tells you to.  
  
\--  
  
“I have a theory” Gaster says, eyeing you from behind his aviator style sunglasses. Which is odd to see because he doesn't actually have ears to balance them on. The first time you saw him wearing them you got a stitch in your side from holding in your laughter, the first time you laughed since your mother died. But beyond the absurdity of Gaster using his magic to balance his sunglasses on his head for potentially just the aesthetic, they did suit him rather well. Or maybe you just find it attractive because he's your mate.  
  
“Oh yeah?” You inquire noncommittally. Your toe involuntarily taps to the quieted tune playing on the radio, causing a buckle on your back to jingle here and there.  
  
“Why you're so insatiable right now and... please stop touching my thigh”  
  
“Oh sorry” you bring your hand back to your lap. You hadn't even noticed you were touching him. Your mind really is wandering. The trees passing catch your eye. Then a bird. There's a person. You blink hard to bring yourself back into the car. Why can't you focus?  
  
“I think your ovulation cycle is exacerbating the libidine in your bloodstream”  
  
“Libi... Libidine?”  
  
“That's the chemical in your blood that compels us to mate. It's in mine too”  
  
“I'm not ovulating though” you protest. In reality you have no idea, you were very bad at tracking your period, you'd never even though to track your ovulation cycle, though you are aware of it sometimes when it makes you breasts too big for your bras or turns you into an insatiable masturbating machine, though that was fairly rare.  
  
“Yes, you are”  
  
“No, I'm not.” Now you're just arguing.  
  
“(Y/N)” Gaster shakes is head ever so slightly, “I can practically smell the progesterone in your system, not to mention the texture of the music in your vagina an-”  
  
“Ew why do you know these things?” You grimace, shifting uncomfortably. You're as sexually liberated as any other 27-year old woman but the word vagina makes you physically cringe.  
  
“I was a physician for oh... 170 years? I treated mainly monsters but I did a few humans pass through my practice, closer to the time monsters were forced underground, weirdly enough” Gaster explains.  
  
“Oh” there's still so much you don't know about him. You briefly wonder what other types of Doctor Gaster is before your mind begins to wander once more.  
  
A pregnant pause fills the car as you run your tongue along the bottom row of your teeth before a horrifying realization dripping out from between your folds onto your thighs begs the question;  
  
“Wait. Can you get me pregnant?”  
  
Gaster taps his fingers against the steering wheel as if to let your question hang in the air for a moment. A punishment for arguing with him maybe?  
  
“Well, yes of course... I'm a virile male and you're a female of breeding age, we're bonded but...” another pause.  
  
“But?” you ask. Your heart is racing, you're such a fucking idiot. Who just has unprotected sex anymore.  
  
“Well, I know in humans you have very little if any say in if a sperm cell reaches an egg but in monsters there is a bit...” he huffs as if he's looking for the words “less random. It's got as much to do with your souls as it does with the physical act of copulation”  
  
Another huff, “but you're a half-breed. Admittedly I have not treated a half-breed since the 16th century so my understanding of half-breeds is a bit out of practice but I believe it comes down to a roughly 25-75 split between soul 'sex' if you will and physical sex”  
  
Somehow this explanation doesn't fill you with confidence. You press your lips together to glance out the window at the passing buildings. You briefly considering jumping out of the car and giving the suicide doors a reason for their name.  
  
But that was a bit too dramatic.  
  
\--  
  
After much whining and invitations for oral sex you promise Gaster you'll stay in his office and listen to the radio while hemming Lisa's dress. Your reward would be a carnal act of your choosing. At this point Gaster did consider bending you over his desk but this lecture was his favourite; MME412: The Core. A gruelling course of his own design that the university let him put into place on the promise he'd do at least one first year lecture per year. Easy, done, he could do that in his sleep.  
  
MME412: The Core, more job interview than lecture really.  
  
Thankfully the lecture hall is actually in the engineering building should you actually need his help for something. You're just hand hemming Lisa's dress, he's not sure what you could possible need his assistance with but Gaster offered anyway. When you told him you weren't wearing panties and began to hike up your skirt that was Gaster's cue to exit.  
  
Gaster didn't actually need an entire lecture hall for this particular class but his booming voice echoing off the walls as he spoke about building the core from nothing after monsters were banished to Mt. Ebott always filled him with a sense of pride and accomplishment.  
  
The lecture hall isn't really a grand room with rows upon rows of seasts designed to fit hundreds or humans and monsters. Rather this lecture halls consists of maybe 10 rows able to hold maybe 50 students at best, more than enough to hold his 10. In previous years it was only monsters who qualified for this class but more and more humans and non-magical creatures have been qualifying and even out performing their magical peers. It had caused Gaster to rethink his interview process for the class.  
  
Thankfully he did or he would have never found Lisa. Bright, thoughtful, not afraid to challenge his word. A few times in the last month Gaster had wished they had bonded. A sickening, cruel thought when you were bound to him against you will. It's not your fault.  
  
As he pushes the door open a few of his students are already seated in the front row. A girl in a hijab quielty chats with a skeleton girl using magic to keep her glasses on her head; Sadaf and Nebraska. A human man sitting in the second row has his nose buried in a book unrelated to this class, Li Jie. A spider girl, a half-breed beetle girl, and a green flame girl compare notes a few seats away from Li Jie; Tina, Spiral and Fuku. A beetle monster sitting in the third row lays with his head on the table, eyes shut tight; Lenny. Just 3 are missing.  
  
Gaster sets his briefcase down on the desk in the pit of the lecture hall, glancing over to the clock on the wall. It's 8:56. 4 more minutes and the missing students are officially late.  
  
“Has anyone heard from Fetch, Puck, or Michael?” Gaster asks, scanning the room. The girls shake their heads no and continue their conversations, Li Jie doesn't even look up from his book. “Lenny” Gaster calls.  
  
Lenny opens one of his eyes, his antennae flicking as he's pulled from his sleep. Gaster often called on Lenny for Puck's whereabouts since the two were roommates. Lenny sits up fully in his seat, stretching all 4 of his arms.  
  
“Puck said he was getting Fetch from her apartment, I think. I wasn't really listening when he left this morning” Lenny yawns lazily.  
  
Gaster huffs and takes a seat at the desk to run out the clock before marking opening his briefcase to mark the attendance in his notebook. A quick check for your soul tells him you're already bored and digging through his desk. Of course you are.  
  
The door creeks open. A young man with shaggy blond hair sheepishly enters the room like a teenager returning home after curfew before standing erect. He's holding two coffees and wearing shorts. “Yoooo, Dr. G whats up?” Michael, always so informal. Gaster is almost convinced he's an idiot savant, but mainly puts up with him because he's a brilliant student and often brings him coffee.  
  
“I'm very well, thank you Mr. Carroll”  
  
“Yeah, yeah cool. How's your mate? What's her name? (Y/N)?” Michael asks setting one of the coffees down on the desk in front of Gaster. It's black. Perfect.  
  
“She's fine, seeming to be doing better but I suspect I need to run more tests on her to be sure” Gaster replies, resting his head in his hand, pulling the coffee closer to him with the other. Gaster, despite being a wall respected engineer, the toast of many galas and functions, didn't actually have a lot of closer personal friends anymore. Contacts without business purposes, especially in creatures that tended to expire at around 70 years old, seem useless the longer he's alive. But Michael seems to have always wormed his way into Gaster's business since his first year. Gaster would never say but he did enjoy someone making an effort to speak to him about something other than work.  
  
“Hey that's cool that's cool, good to hear man. Hey listen though” Michael sniffs, wiping his nose with his free hand, “did you uh, give anything thought to my request”  
  
Gaster frowns. This coffee had better not have been a bribe coffee or he was going to be pissed. “Mr. Carroll, I've already told you I have no way to ensure you'll be approved for that same PHD program Ms. Blackwater got into, or that I would even be able to take you on as your adviser. You've been asking me for... how many years?”  
  
“Like, 6” Michael replies.  
  
“And how many years have I been saying the exact same thing?”  
  
“Like... 6”  
  
“Exactly. Please find your seat Mr. Carroll”  
  
“Aah, alright Dr. G thanks though” Michael laughs, laying a heavy hand on the desk before finding a spot for himself behind Li Jie. Michael is surprisingly chill on the outside, but there's something more to this seemingly vacant surfer type. The juxtaposition between his grades and his lax personality were more than a testament to that. Even if he was just looking for a letter of recommendation Gaster felt it important to keep half an eye on him.  
  
9:00  
  
Gaster rises from the desk, clearing his throat. As he is about to speak the door bursts open. A dog monster, followed by another in a blue dress stumbling in from the hallway. Puck and Fetch.  
  
“How nice of you to join us”  
  
“Sorry Dr. Gaster, traffic”  
  
\--  
  
“The core currently runs at about 12% capacity. If The Core was first created 379 years ago who can tell me at what percentage it experiences positive growth per year on average” Gaster begins writing out the equation on the blackboard while furious scribbling fills the room whenever his sentences pause. Sadaf's hand flies into the air, Gaster doesn't even need to look back to know it's her. “Yes Mrs. Abd Al-Wahab?”  
  
“About 0.0316%, Doctor”  
  
“Correct, well done. Currently The Core is experiencing a very slow positive growth in output per year despite it's consistent upgrades. As you all know-” Gaster begins into the topic as your soul ever so slightly tugs against his. He pauses for a moment. It must have been a fluke, or maybe you stabbed your finger with the needle.  
  
“-as you all know some of the main issue have been poor utilization of magic, possibly outdated specs and machinery, and the Canadian government's various polices on magical engineering and various other types of magical work. Who can te-” The tug from your soul stops Gaster in the middle of his sentence. Another tug. That couldn't have been a fluke or a simple needle to the finger.  
  
“I.. hell, take 15 I have something to attend to” Gaster slams the chalk down on the desk and heads for the door, his black polished shoes demanding authority as he walks out the door. A soft chatter between the girls in the front row fills the lecture hall as Gaster waves the door open with his magic.  
  
What the Hell were you up to now.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Practice safe doing-it friends!
> 
> http://pretty-wiccan-thing.tumblr.com/  
> https://playmoss.com/en/daisywitch/playlist/season-of-the-witch


	21. RECOLLECTION I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gaster is good at lying to children

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I intended for this short flashback to be in another chapter but it's been so long without an update so maybe this will just be a regular thing so you can get a better understand of Gaster's deal. See the end notes for more info (aka word vomit)

_Somewhere off the Mediterranean Sea, 1400's  
  
_ Every night the dream is always the same. A figure he cannot fully see, calling to him. A woman' It's his mate and she's a human and she's suffering. Suffering from what he was never able to figure out before she falls into the darkness and out of his reach. But it's always his fault. He was too slow to reply, too unsure to ask, too cruel to offer assistance. No amount of running was going to release him from the nightmares that hounded his nights.   
  
A small brown hand smelling of old silk wraps around his narrow waist. This is quickly followed by a larger, more masculine hand. Though the bed is warm and the humans whom he spent a blissful evening with offer a similar morning he knows he can't stay.  
  
As the sun creeps in under the drapes so does the looming fear deep within the pit of his stomach.   
  
\-- __  
  
“How can this be?”  
  
The two men look over the body of a young woman, or rather her washed up remains at the edge of the sea. The woman's skin bubbles and bursts under the light of the morning sun causing her flowing purple dress to meld to her flesh as her headscarf lays loose around her bald scalp. Her burst flesh sinks into her features exaggerating the bone underneath as if she'd been there for longer than a few hours.  
  
The first man shields his eyes from the ghastly display while the other keeps his eyes locked to the woman.  
  
“She's not human,” the second man replies, squatting to further inspect the corpse.  
  
“What could she be?” the first man asks as he gazes back to town, scanning the horizon for any sign of the friend they sent to retrieve help upon the discovery.  
  
“A ghoul, an unholy abomination,” the man blocks the sign with his hand to his forehead. The woman's flesh seems to be deteriorating and flecking off into small bits.  
  
As the help party finally breaks crests on the horizon the two men, though they don't mention it to each other, notice the unmistakeable scent of sweet inflorescence catch the air.  
  
\--  
  
“My father says the new world is just for monsters, isn't that great Dr. Gaster?”  
  
“I wouldn't be so quick to speak. While your father is a great leader he has not been to the new world, we do not know what will be on the other side of the ocean”  
  
“But my father is never wrong!”  
  
Gaster knows it's futile to argue with the king's son. Instead of telling Asriel of how most of them shall die and be thrown overboard for the sea creatures to devour or how humans do live in the new world he offers up a smile before turning back to watch the crew made up of various monsters haul luggage and supplied board the ship. The nearby crowd know it could very well be a death sentence, but the sweet call of freedom is too strong to ignore for those willing to uproot their lives.  
  
The small furry paw wrapped around one of Gaster's long pointed fingers tightens.  
  
“Dr. Gaster” Asriel's voice is soft.   
  
“Yes?”  
  
“I'm scared. Are we going to be okay if we go to the new world?"  
  
Gaster exhales deeply, keeping the smile on his face lest he worry Asriel. Of course he was scared, terrified. But with the young prince's large eyes staring up at him, Gaster figured a bold face lie might be more comforting than the indifferent truth.  
  
"We'll be okay, Asriel, I promise"  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love this story. It's probably my most favorite thing I've ever written but the thing about anxiety disorders (or, mine anyway) is they make you question yourself and everything you've ever written and then everything looks wrong. And then your meds stop working and you cry a lot again and shake a lot. You put on a smile and pretend it's okay but it only helps for a little bit. It seems every time I go to open my word processor I get anxious and close it again.
> 
> But I'm trying to overcome it, I promise! I've changed my diet to something I know makes me feel good, I'm doing the gym thing and taking my meds. I'm not going to stop working on this story (or my other ones) but there may be more and more bumps along the way.
> 
> Things are amiss but that's the nature of life.


	22. INCULCATE II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gaster and Sans might not have the best relationship. But it's not anything money can't solve weee!
> 
> Remember that graphic depictions of violence warning???? I mean it's not huge but maybe just be ready. It's just gonna get worse from this chapter on as I get back in touch with my guro roots ¯\\_ツ_/¯

_Thursday October 11_ _th_ _1979_  
  
Humming along softly along to the radio you weave the needled in and out of the delicate fabric. Having Gaster near but not necessarily in the same room allowed your blood to settle and your mind to clear. You can actually think about something other than you loins aching for your mate. You were to a point of great soreness so this was a plus.  
  
Pulling the silky thread tight you're awarded a glimpse of your scars. Deep haggard scars under softly raised burgundy lines that lay perfectly straight across your wrists. What were you thinking; trying to kill yourself upon a flood of bad memories.  
  
But, didn't it make sense? If you were never born there would certainly be fewer problems. Your mother might still be alive, maybe even your father. From the sounds of it if they liked each other enough to fuck at least once they could have learned to love, or like, or even tolerate each other enough to have some form of wedded bliss. Were they friends before hand? Your mom never really discussed their relationship from before their forced bond. So much would be different if you weren't alive.  
  
If you weren't alive Gaster would be free to pursue whomever he wanted instead of being stuck to you.  
  
If you weren't alive Lisa wouldn't have to deal with your moody attitude and spend more time focusing on the friends she actually liked.  
  
If you weren't alive Mrs. Oppel wouldn't make Flora speak to Gaster to actually find out how you're doing since you no longer return her calls. And poor Flora, so meek and quite and terrified of Gaster, yet she still goes to him to ask about you.  
  
If you weren't alive no one would have to put their lives on hold to take care of you or worry about you.  
  
If you weren't alive maybe.  
  
Maybe.  
  
Just maybe.  
  
A swirling in your chest halts your steady hand and you lower the dress to the desk. It's warm and invites you to close your eyes. You obey.  
  
The warmth touches your cheek like an old lover. It would be so easy.  
  
You couldn't help that you were born, that wasn't your decision. You couldn't help that you destroyed a large portion of your mother's life and eventually drover her to her own suicide, much of that was her own doing. But you could absolutely help how long you would continue to be an inconvenience.  
  
Would you be missed? Would your own passing really effect anyone? If you died today how long would it be until the lives you took up residence in moved on. A few days? A week at most?  
  
The old chair whines are you lean back. Would notice if you just quietly disappeared?  
  
Because it would be so easy you think as the warmth guides your hand. So easy to stop. So easy to sleep.  
  
Maybe you should just sleep.  
  
\--  
  
Gaster's shoes click against each step as he climbs the stairs to the 3 rd floor with haste. He approaches his office, flicking the door open with his magic. Your soul had grown quiet almost to the point of disappearing completely from his radar.  
  
”(Y/N),” Gaster's voice is commanding but when your head stays craned downward a tinge of panic courses through him, “What are you doing?” Gaster's voice cuts through the static of the radio. Why is the radio playing static?  
  
“ _Wing Dings_ ” your voice is hollow as your head slowly lifts to look at your mate standing in the door way. For the quickest moment his heart skips. Your eyes have glossed over, they're not focused, your mouth is hanging opening. Then his eyes draw downward to see what you're working on.  
  
As if bolted to the floor Gaster watches uselessly as you silently raise your right hand high in the air. You pinch the needle between your thumb and index finger, pulling the thread tight through the neon coloured dress and the flesh of your forearm but your eyes continue to stare through your mate.  
  
Never has Gaster been at a loss for words or action. All he can do is watch as you bring the needle back down to the dress, weave through the fabric, your flesh, and up again. Beads of blood well up from within your skin as you pull the thread tighter and tighter bonding the fabric to your body.  
  
Curiously your face is still as if the pain doesn't register with your body.  
  
A step, and then another; Gaster drifts toward you with precise steps.  
  
“ _Wing Dings_ ” you say again with more conviction.  
  
His first name coming out of your mouth is wrong but the fear piling up in his chest from the occasional sparks of life from your soul pull him toward you still until only the only the desk separate the two of you. His movements are deliberate.  
  
“ _Wing Dings_ ” again, your eyes stare through his torso as the thread if pulled tighter. Your face is flushed bright red as tears well in your eyes.  
  
Gaster places either of his hands on either of yours, pressing them into the desk.  
  
“Get out” Gaster demands. His voice is low but authoritative enough to illicit the warmth to shiver.  
  
“ _Wing Dings_ ” the voice is almost a song.  
  
“Get. Out.”  
  
“ _Wing Dings_ ” another song, a pleasing siren's call.  
  
“Get the fuck out of my mate, you vandella”  
  
Your eyes lock with Gaster's as a grin creeps across your face. Gaster narrows his brow and his grip on your hands tighten. You drop the needle.  
  
_“I've missed you, Wing Dings_ ” your head jerks unnaturally as the warmth wraps around your jaw. Two warm forces pull your head back as if to snap your neck. Your soul springs back to life, grasping at Gaster's but your body is not in your control.  
  
“ _It's been such a long time_ ” the voice cascading out of your mouth isn't yours.  
  
You're not even there.  
  
\--  
  
It's dark. Maybe you're eyes are open but there is only blackness.  
  
Up is every direction, but so is down. But it's not like moving your body gives any sensation.  
  
Your chest burns but you're no where near it.  
  
Gaster's voice echos within your head but his words swirl far too much to make any sense. Strong consonants, soft vowels, breathing, his heart beating.  
  
Again.  
  
And again.  
  
And again.  
  
And again.  
  
Or maybe that's yours it's so hard to tell as your form floats in this darkness.  
  
This void.  
  
It's as if you're truly naked; no skin, no flesh, no blood, no muscles, no bones. Just energy  
  
_“Y/N”_  
  
Is that who you are? You shift in the vacuum of the darkness.  
  
_“Y/N”_  
  
“No, not right now” you groan as your energy shifts against another force. You're so comfortable.  
  
_“Y/N”_  
  
Everything is so comfortable, so cozy.  
  
_“Y/N”_  
  
So warm.  
  
\--  
  
**“FOR FUCKS SAKE Y/N”** Gaster throttles your shoulders but you remain limp. Not even his soul reaching out for yours is enough to pull you out of your yourself though try as he may. Your lips move as if you're speaking inside the void but you say nothing in this plane.  
  
Somehow, by the unholy grace of whatever ancient deity had taken a dislike to him, she found him. Eons of running to the ends of the earth. There was no mistake she found him, _finally._  
  
With expert magic like the hands of a surgeon Gaster severes the thread that connect you to Lisa's gown. The tiny fibres of the neon cloth stick to the rapidly drying blood clinging to your skin. The dress slinks away from your body, against the desk and onto the floor as Gaster pulls your out of the chair and into his arms.  
  
Was it when your souls bonded did she spy his on the horizon? Was it when he let down his guard to open his heart to you that acted as a call to her? Was it luck? Or perhaps fate? However she found him was not important. What was important was the residence she seems to have taken up in your soul.  
  
Your lips press into his shoulder as they move. You're speaking in the void again. Were you speaking to her?  
  
\--  
  
“You're taking her to Alphys immediately.” Gaster presses his fingers to his temple as he growls into the phone. Dismissing his class with your limp body over his shoulder raised more questions than he wanted to answer: “Who is that?” “Is she dead?” “What the hell”. But you couldn't stay at the university. Hell, you can't even stay at the house. You need help and you need it now.  
  
The voice on the other end is silent for a moment, the rustle of something that sounds like a bag of chips the only thing coming through the receiver.  
  
“Uh, no thanks I'm pretty busy” The voice protests. What sounds like a gun shot from the television loudly bangs in the background. Busy indeed.  
  
“Sans I'm not asking, I'm telling you. You're taking her to Alphys _now_ ” Gaster was slowly beginning to lose his patience.  
  
“You think I can just teleport like that?”  
  
“I know you can because I GAVE AWAY THAT FUCKING ABILITY WHEN I CREATED YOU, YOU FUCKING INGRATE” Gaster slams his fist into the table causing the phone's cradle to jump. If he hadn't given up his power he could have done this himself. And now here he stands begging to his do-nothing son.  
  
Silence, interrupted by more gun shots from the television in the small New York apartment.  
  
“Yeah I'm really gonna help you now. Get fucked you ancient piece of shit”  
  
“Sans. Sans. SANS.” Gaster pleads into the phone. The dial tone hadn't come up. Sans is still listening. “I... fuck, what do you want?”  
  
“Money. Paps is floundering, this apartment sucks”  
  
Gaster groans. Of course he wants money. Money makes the world go 'round. Money keeps Papyrus in culinary school despite having the talent of a wet dish rag. Money allows Sans to follow whatever pursuit interested him that week. Despite wanting his sons to be self sufficient it is much easier to just pay their way through life  
  
“Fine done, come here now”  
  
Before the dial tone has a chance to chime through to the other side he's there without a sound.  
  
“Hey” from the permanent grin plastered across his face, to the stained blue sweater and pink fuzzy slippers it was a wonder how this trash-eating goblin of a monster came from him. A grimace creeps across Gaster's face.  
  
“I want twenty grand”  
  
The grimace widens on Gaster's face “I'll cut you a check”  
  
The grin on Sans' face remains unmoved but a soft chuckle reveals his approval, sticking his hands into the pockets of his old sweater. “So where are you keeping this chick?”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OH WOW ITS SANS
> 
> So there I was sitting at my desk at work and I was like Jesus Christ I can literally write anything.  
> And I guess I did lmao wow where is this going now. Be ready for another Recollection chapter feat. Chara ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)  
> I think Chara might be my favorite Chara. There is so little info about them it's like... you can make them fucking anything AND I WILL. AAAHHH I LOVE THEM.  
> I'm gonna bring the plot all back around don't worry fam.
> 
> ALSO HI I LIVE I'VE BEEN IN A WEIRD PLACE I'VE BAKED SO MANY CAKES.  
> https://pretty-wiccan-thing.tumblr.com/  
> https://playmoss.com/en/daisywitch/playlist/season-of-the-witch (if you wanna listen to some tunes relevant to this fic)
> 
> man I made Sans kind of an asshole oops


	23. BEGIN AGAIN

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You take a void nap and things don't go well

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW; suicide (!!?!?) And blood and stuff????

  
_“If you could go back to the beginning you would right? Knowing what you know now? You could avoid all of this”  
  
_ The warmth circles around your being, kissing your cheek, caressing your hips like an old lover. It feels everywhere, your only comfort in this dead and lonely plane. You feel as if you've been here forever, and as if you've only just arrived all at once.   
  
Where are you? Where is Gaster, wasn't he just holding you?  
  
“What do you mean” your voice echos against the darkness as the warmth intertwines what feels like fingers between yours.  
  
 _“Let me show you”  
  
_ \--  
  
 _August 26_ _th_ _1979_  
  
“You're not mad are you?” Lisa's arms pull you into her chest. The acrid stench of lavender clinging to her long hair is almost enough to make you vomit. Your eyes water at the stinging perfume. Did she always smell this strongly?

  
“No no of course not. I'm just glad we cou...” you reply not of your own accord as you pull away from her not bothering to finish your sentence. You've been here before. The pinch in your toes from your ill-fitting platform boots feel so real, but surely this can't be real. The wind swirling under your skirt and the sun beating down on your skin feels so real.  
  
Lisa seems real.  
  
Sirens blare in the distance, the musk of city floats back into your nostrils once more. Did the warmth do this? What exactly this?  
  
“Do you wanna grab a coffee real quick? I actually have to meet with the professor who's overseeing my program at 10 and then I'm meeting me sister at the beach for-”  
  
“11” you say in tandem. Lisa's face contorts into a grimace as she looks away from you, wondering how you knew what she was going to say. Your knees wobble, maybe you shouldn't be speaking off script? You open your mouth to tell Lisa what you think is happening but of course she cuts you off. She always cuts you off. Christ she's so rude.  
  
Back in reality, back when this happened before, this is where you first met Gaster. Should you run? Should you play along?   
  
“Actually I see him in there right now, maybe we can just do the meeting here” Lisa explains, letting her voice drop at the end of her sentence. Dutifully you follow as she opens the door to the coffee shop, a hand against your sternum. Is this when the stain appeared? Your stomach is in knots as you wait for Lisa to grab Gaster's attention, and spot you for the first time.  
  
“Dr. Gaster!” Lisa's voice cracks at the end and you can't help but to notice how caked on her foundation and how it settles into the dips in her pockmarked cheeks. Isn't her face always flawless? Isn't she a natural beauty? Even her hair seems flat and greasy under the cafe lights.  
  
You keep your lips pressed tightly together, only smiling when you're introduced, wearing a concerned look on your face when Lisa shoves her tote into your arms, and remembering to ask Lisa for a real coffee this time. The visions of your father keep flowing in a steady stream, only giving you a second or two of clarity before you're pulled back in.  
  
“Despite her earlier comment Ms. Blackwater has told me an awful lot about yo-” Gaster begins, head titled with his hands around his coffee having already taken his seat. But you can't wait. The fear you know you're supposed to have at this time is gone as you drop Lisa's tote and your own purse to the ground.  
  
There's no way this is real. The warmth in your mind, in that dark place wherever you are has got to be doing this. A vision of the first day you met your mate.  
  
This isn't real.  
  
“Gaster” you snap. His brow bone raises in shock as you step over the bags and the formalities. The atmosphere of the coffee shop changes as the two of you lock eyes. Conversations fall silent, the general attitude feels artificially shifted. You feel like you're the only real person in a city of ghosts.  
  
“We... we soul bond” you blurt, unsure of what else you're supposed to say other than the truth. Gaster's brow narrows, glancing away from you. A soft sigh, more of a giggle really.   
  
“I know”  
  
“Fuck off I know you didn't” You stomp your foot to punctuate your sentence with your fists at either side of you.  
  
“No no, I know” Gaster slowly rises from his seat. The air is cold and digs at your skin. You look over your shoulder to look to Lisa for any kind of support. Lisa stands in front of the counter, holding two cups of coffee, seemingly frozen in time. Everyone seems frozen in time.  
  
You look back to your mate, but he doesn't look like your mate or rather the mate you've come to know.  
  
The creature before you stands looming over you like the shadow of building, absolutely dwarfing you. Gaster's facial features distort, like a rough approximation of what he looked like before. His body has no mass, like fog or a ghost.   
  
Everything in the cafe seems to fall away like dust, leaving nothing but stark blackness. Eyes wide you take a step back to find your foot fall through the security of the tile floor.  
  
“What the fuck WHAT THE FUCK” You scream, throwing your weight forward in desperation. You fall to your knees but still land on some kind of ground, despite being surrounded in blackness. It's heavy, the air is thick and hard to pull into your lungs.   
  
“Y/N” His voice is so garbled, he doesn't even sound like Gaster anymore. Tears well up in yours as you attempt to feel out what you're kneeling on.  
  
“NO. NO FUCK OFF THIS ISN'T REAL. YOU AREN'T REAL” You scream as a cold hand cups your chin, forcing your face up. You hold your eyes closed as tightly as you can as you begin to hyperventilate. The cold fingers trace down your neck  
  
There's no air here. You can't breathe, you're pulling nothing into your lungs.   
  
“Y/N, I a* re**. This is **al. Our bond ex**** **** ****. ****** *** *********, *** **** *****, *** ***'* ****** **. **** **** **, *** **** ****** ***” Gaster's voice completely changes into an indistinguishable garbled mess you can't understand as the blackness completely consumes you, save for a warmth ethereal hand landing on your shoulder.  
  
“Y/N” it's the voice of a woman, the voice that spoke to you before, that voice that was coming out of your corporeal body. “You're too weak, your magic was never developed. Even if you lived another thousand years you'd never have the ability to go through with the split” Her voice is so warm.   
  
Thoughts of your father fill your mind, his hands, the scent of his truck as he drove you to the hospital as you bled out. Oh, the blood flowing out of your wrists was so warm, like the voice. Everything felt so fuzzy that day. From the tears that wet your face, to the thoughts screaming at you to take your life as you  As your life force dripped from your body to the seats of the old pick up truck you felt as if you were just going to sleep. Your brain had shut off. The bumps in the road and your father begging you to stay awake were the only things stopping you from slipping.  
  
Why though. Why in the Hell would your mother curse you? Why wouldn't your father try to say anything sooner. None of this makes any fucking sense. If your body allowed you the pleasure of crying, now would be the time to do it but you just can't find the tears.  
  
The rushing of blood fills your ears, but it sounds so far away now. Another warm hand lands on your shoulder, and a warm breath graces your ear.  
  
“...you could kill yourself”

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I've been in the process of moving. I'm still not moved, and I've been having a weird time. I've been kind of looking after my boyf who's been majorly depressed lately and... like, you know.
> 
> https://pretty-wiccan-thing.tumblr.com/


	24. INCULCATE III

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Where the fuck has this been for the last year jfc  
> Remember when I used to update all the time? Yeah lets get back into that.

The darkness subsides and your find yourself planted on a soft, earthy ground face to face with a child. At first she seems oddly familiar but you cannot place her face behind the mud dotting her round chubby face. She’s dressed in a loose white dress with mud caked along the bottom. It isn’t warm, but it isn’t cold either, just as the sun sits high in the sky hidden behind plumes of thick, light grey clouds; ambiguous, melancholy, yet everything feels so familiar. The tart nectar of the wildflowers, coupled with the mild piquancy of the pollen swirling in the air stills your shaking soul.  
  
As the wind rustles the fauna by your thigh and you realized you’re completely nude. The odd stain on your sternum feels as though it’s burning under the gaze of the child before you. You scramble to cover your breasts with your forearms and your odd stain with your hands. For some reason something inside you is screaming for you to cover the stain, as if that is more intimate than any secondary sex characteristics you might have.   
  
“Wha… what is-” but your cut your sentence short by a strong gust of wind, pulling with it the loose petals and dead leaves of the surrounding field and you can’t help but watch them swirl and dance in tall cyclones.   
  
“Shh, no talking” her voice is so quiet beneath the swirling wind but you catch every word. The child grins and showcases the void where her two front teeth should be when you realize that’s your mother’s smile. And It’s you. She’s you. She raises her hands to either side of her face to show you her slashed wrists. Blood slinks down her tiny arms, staining the sleeves a bright red.   
  
“We almost did it once before (Y/N)”   
  
Almost immediately you begin to cough. Something thick, vicious, and foul fills your mouth as you stumble backwards from the child version of yourself, but she doesn’t seem phased. She doesn’t seem to be bothered by anything. Not by you, not by the growing darkness behind her.   
  
“We could finish it”   
  
Hacking and gagging you stumble backward. Bits of black sludge fly out of your mouth. Some of it falls to the ground, some of it falls on your nude body. fall backwards into the field. You expect to feel the mud soak into your skin or to be cradled by the tall grass and wildflowers.   
  
But these sensations never come.   
  
Instead you drift into eternity and the darkness closes around you again. There is no direction to orient yourself as you drift. The odd stain on your sternum is the only thing glowing faintly in the darkness. As you drift the sense of dread deep in your core. Maybe you died.

 

Oh, if only you were so lucky.

 

\--

  
_Thursday, October 11, 1979_   


“Yeah, I can see why you're into this chick” Sans huffs, looking over your prone body laying on the couch in his office back at home, lips moving as if you're speaking, but you're not speaking on this plane.

 

“Looks like she knows how to use her mouth. Human?” he turns to his father, though he stopped referring to Gaster as that years ago. Something inside Sans always pushed him to answer Gaster's calls and make the mandatory visits once or twice a year. Maybe he did yearn for that father/son relationship but he'd be deep in the cold ground before Gaster ever found out. Keeping him at an arm’s length was the best option.

 

“Sans please” Gaster grumbles from his desk, furiously writing on a loose sheet of paper. It was enough he had to be in the same room as his piece of shit failed experiment, it was another to leave you in his care even momentarily.

 

“She's possessed” he continues, folding whatever it had written and placing it in an envelope. You needed Dr. Alphys now, lest you completely lose yourself in the void.

 

Sans scoffed, eyes drawn around the room “and you can't just exercise it? I thought you were some all powerful Lich, did you give that away to some other bastard?” his eyes landed on their most recently family photo from about 20 years ago, hanging next to one of Gaster's many framed degrees he'd acquired over the years. Sans was shocked he'd held onto it let alone decided to display it along his more proud accomplishments.

 

“No” Gaster replied with a low tone rising to his feet choosing to ignore Sans’ other comment. “Since you'll probably read the letter to Alphys anyway this woman is-” he walked around his desk, extending the note to Sans who immediately broke the seal to read it. Gaster sighed exasperatedly. He didn't know why he even bothered sealing it in an envelope in the first place.

  
“You think it's Chara possessing… ” Sans lowered the note, looking up to the taller monster “... Your soul bonded mate?” he gestured toward your motionless body. A true grin blossomed across Sans’ face before flowering into a full on laugh.  
  
“And… haha, it’s this, haaa- this… this witchl?” Sans managed to let out between laughs. He slide the letter back into the envelope and stuffed it into his pocket “Shit talk about your ghosts coming back to haunt you, eh?”  
  
Literal ghosts, in fact. Sans knew what he was saying would hit a sore spot in the doctor. Gaster brushed passed Sans to look down at your body, as a sting tore through his soul. The room fell into a caustic silence, almost deafening in it’s consumption of the room.   
Gaster slid his hands under your limp body. You very well could be been dead for the lack of reaction. You’re still in there, albeit very deep.  
  
“Take her to Alphys” Gaster turns to Sans as if to hand you off. He couldn’t go himself, not yet anyway.  
  
“I believe I’m due a check?” Sans lowers his head but kept his eyes locked on Gaster’s.    
  
“Take her to Alphys. **Now** ” Gaster glares back at Sans, “I’ll pay you when I get word from Alphys”  
  
“Yeah well you’d better not fucking forget” Sans huffs, holding his arms out to take you. As soon as you were out of Gaster’s hands Sans was gone, along with your body, nar a speck of magic to be found.   
  
Gaster fell back into the couch, clutching at his sternum. The burning in his mark had already started. “ **FUCK** ” He curses aloud, dropping his head back. The pain is immeasurable.   
  
That fucking trash goblin had better be taking you directly to Alphys.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey I do a lot of writing and drawing and shenanigans-ing on my tumblr!  
> pretty-wiccan-thing.tumblr.com
> 
> Are you looking for a playlist to go along with this story (why tho?) find it here!  
> https://playmoss.com/en/daisywitch/playlist/season-of-the-witch
> 
> Sorry for the almost fucking year between update my life has been a hot mess but it's gotten so much better. Thanks for hanging around.


End file.
